


The Dream's the Thing (Wherein He’ll Catch the Subconscious of Our Dean)

by li_izumi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Bang Challenge, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Cupid Marks, Dean in Denial, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is forced to confront his feelings, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2017, Dreams, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, God Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, God Ships It, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Season/Series 05, References to Croatoan/Endverse, Temporarily Female Castiel (Supernatural), season 6 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/li_izumi/pseuds/li_izumi
Summary: Dean finds himself in a crowded ballroom with only the sense that he needs to choose someone.  In between this and other strange visions, Dean remembers that the Apocalypse is over.  Sam, Bobby, and Cas are alive but going their separate ways. Dean’s dying. But if his supernatural death flu is the price for the return of his family, why does Dean get better around Cas?[Canon compliant through season 5 before diverging with the end of Swan Song. Contains references/Easter eggs for scenes from season 6]





	1. “A Sort of Supernatural Death Flu”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/gifts).



> I'd like to thank Grandle for the amazing art. Check out [Grandle's tumblr](http://grandle.tumblr.com/) for more amazing art!
> 
> I'd also like to thank [Pherryt](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/) for joining me on SPN binge watches, Rachel my grammar goddess, and my amazing editor, [Ria](http://riazendira.tumblr.com/), for not only getting sucked into watching the entire show when she didn't want to in order to help me with this story, but also stayed up with me until 2 in the morning for final edits.
> 
> Warnings: No archive warnings apply. Lots of not-safe-for-network-TV swearing Dean would say if he wasn’t on network-TV, internalized homophobia, and typical-show level ableist and misogynistic slurs. Cas doesn’t necessarily consider Cas as male; the insistence on gendering Cas (and perhaps misgendering Cas) is entirely on Dean’s part and not the author’s.

Dean doesn’t know where he is--well, he’s aware that he’s in a huge ballroom filled with people in fancy dresses and tuxes, he can see that, but he doesn’t know where the ballroom is, why he’s there, or how he got there in the first place.  Actually, he doesn’t know much of anything, his mind and memory are a complete blank.  He knows his name and not much else.  He should be more freaked out about this but for some reason he’s feeling pretty chill.

The only other thing he knows is that he’s looking for someone.  He hopes he’ll know who and understand why when he finds them.  There are a LOT of people, and pretty much _everyone_ around him seems familiar--like he should know who they are.  There are more women than men, but Dean’s not sure what that tells him about this place.  A number of people are out dancing together--pairs or small groups of men with women and women with women--others are gathered in groups talking in hushed voices.  It’s weird, even with the ballroom filled, the room is strangely muted.  What _is_ this place?

Dean picks at the tightness of his collar, and suspects this tux isn’t his normal wear.  Fuck.  He can keep standing here or he can try to figure this shit out.  He steps forward.  It takes a few steps to decide where to go.  He doesn’t think he knows how to dance, so he aims for the refreshment table.  He could really use a beer right about now.

As he crosses through the crowd, he’s drawn to a beautiful brown-skinned woman with a puff of shoulder-length, curly, dark hair and full, red lips.  He wonders what it would be like to kiss those lips.  He catches her eyes, but she looks away.  Dean continues his way through the room.

Another dark-haired beauty catches his eye.  Her hair is long and straight, and her shimmery dress hugs her perfectly curved hips.  She notices him looking at her, and her brown eyes light up.  Her whole face glows with her smile.  Dean considers going over to her.  Instead, he keeps heading towards the refreshment table.

One of the few guys in the room stands by a stack of hamburgers.  He looks at the pile as if he’s not sure if he really wants one (or more than one) or if he’s going to be sick to his stomach.  It’s such a strange expression that Dean can’t help but burst out laughing.  The guy looks up at the sound and their eyes meet.  His blue eyes widen, with surprise or recognition, Dean’s not sure.  They keep staring at each other, long past the time social convention would demand one or both of them break eye contact.

Dean looks away, searches for the woman with the bright smile.  She isn’t far, and her smile, which had vanished, returns as soon as their eyes meet.  He ought to go to her.  That’s what he should do at a party like this, right?  Talk with a pretty girl?

He gives her a smile and wink, and her face lights up.  But instead of walking over to her, he moves closer towards the guy and the burgers.  

Something about this guy feels safe.  They can have some burgers, maybe chat a little.  After, with some food in his belly, Dean can figure out where he is and what’s going on…. And now Dean’s looking at the guy again.  He should probably stop staring.  Why is he so taken in by this dude’s eyes?  

Dean clears his throat.  “Come on, man, let’s grab us some of these burgers, and--” Dean places his hand on the man’s shoulder and awareness returns.

Dean remembers.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean swears.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“We should call Cas.”

“We don’t need to call Cas,” Dean insisted.  

Sam gave him a ‘who are you kidding’ bitch face, which turned into one of his super worried expressions when Dean started hacking up a lung.

“I’m fine!” Dean gritted out.

“You’re not fine!”  Sam punctuated his statement by waving his hands wildly at Dean like an overly emphatic Vanna White.

Dean wished Sam would actually yell at him back, but Sam had used his scared, worried voice and Dean fucking hated that voice because he would do anything not to have Sam that upset.  Almost anything, at least.

“Seriously, Dean, it’s time to call Cas.”

“Dude disappeared right after Stull and we haven’t seen or heard from him since.”  A ‘hello’ once and a while would have been nice.  It wasn’t like Cas didn’t have the angel-juice to fly down for a visit now and again, or, hell, he could reach out through a dream if he couldn’t get down in person.  But with the Apocalypse over, all the angels, Cas included, had completely disappeared.

“He’s probably busy cleaning up Heaven,” Sam stated in that obnoxious ‘I’m reasonable and understanding’ tone of his.  “Have you _tried_ calling him--”

“I did once, okay?” Dean admitted.  “His phone’s disconnected.”   And if that wasn’t a pretty clear ‘fuck off, don’t call anymore’...

“I don’t know, Dean.  Maybe cellphones don’t work in Heaven?”

“Or maybe the Apocalypse ended and he doesn’t need us anymore.”  Ugh, his sore throat was bothering him, making his voice all wobbly.

And dammit, Sam had that brow-furrowed, ‘concerned’ look of his.

“There ain’t a way to call him if his phone doesn’t work, Sam,” Dean bit out to stop Sam’s pitying looks.

“Have you tried praying to him?”

“Praying?” Dean scoffed.

“He _is_ an Angel.”

Dean snorted.  It turned into a hacking cough.  Sam pushed a cup of water at him, but Dean waved it off.  He wouldn’t be able to keep it down, anyway.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Sam said firmly, and whatever patience he had for Dean was gone.  He gave the ultimatum: “Either pray to Cas or I’m taking you to the hospital. You’ve gotten way too sick, way too fast for this to be a natural illness, and you know it.”

“What, so I got some sort of supernatural death flu?”

Sam crossed his arms.  “Yeah, that’s what I think.  And so do you, or you’d have already gone to the hospital instead of asking Bobby to look into things.”

Fuck, he’d _told_ Bobby not to tell Sam about his call!  He’d hoped that Bobby would’ve had some ideas, because Dean _had_ gotten ‘way too sick, way too fast’ for this to be anything natural.  Bobby had recommended the usual drill, but Dean had already searched for hex bags, curses, and other signs of demons, witches, ghosts, and monsters since he first started to come down with this--whatever this was.  Bobby had said he’d keep researching, but so far nothing had panned out.

Not that he’d admit all that to Sam.  He didn’t want his brother worrying needlessly when there wasn’t anything to be done about it.

“How, Sammy?  We haven’t seen any demon activity since we sealed up Lucifer, we haven’t run into any witches, and the angels have packed up shop and gone home.  All we’ve had since we stopped the end of the world have been some good old salt-and-burns, and that’s it.  It’s been practically a vacation for us.  Besides, how could I have caught a supernatural death flu and not you, when you’ve been with me the whole time?”

And that had been way too much talking.  He gasped weakly for air, his body shaking from the exertion.

Sam waited until Dean had mostly caught his breath again before he started in again. “Not the _whole_ time.”

Dean froze, his eyes wide.

“Dean, what happened after I went into the Cage?”

Dean looked away from his brother.  “Why are we still having this conversation?  I told you: You went into the pit, there was a flash of light, you were out of the pit, everyone was alive and well.  End of story.”

Sam crossed his arms.   “That isn’t the end of the story, and you know it.”

They’d had this argument a few times right after they stopped the Apocalypse, but it had been a while since Sam had brought it up.  Dean had managed to shrug him off before, but it didn’t seem like Sam was going to let it go this time.  But damn if Dean wasn’t going to try.

“Well, that’s more or less what happened.”

“‘More or less’, Dean?   _Something_ more happened or you wouldn’t be so damn reticent about it!”

With a loud sigh, Dean shook his head.  “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.  The _whole_ truth.  Just tell me what happened already.”

“Can we _not_ have this fight right now?  I’m tired.”

“You can’t keep evading this conversation, Dean.   _Something_ happened, and right now it’s our only lead on your illness.  So tell me: What happened after I went into the pit with Lucifer and Michael?”

Leave it to his brother to be a stubborn asshole and not let this matter drop when Dean was on his fucking death bed and clearly didn’t want to talk about all that shit.  Oh, fuck it.  If Sam wanted to know that badly, Dean would tell him.  He’d tell him _all_ of it.

“Fine!” Dean snapped.  “You want to know?  I’ll fucking tell you!”

He shifted on the motel bed so he could sit up enough to look his overgrown brother in the eye.

“You were gone, worse than dead.  An eternity at the hands of Lucifer and Michael.  Bobby was dead.  Cas… Cas was obliterated.  My whole world was _gone_.”

“Dean!” Sam gasped, his eyes wide.

Dean ignored his brother’s interruption; it was too late to pull this punch.  “And there I was, lying on the ground, a broken, bleeding, useless waste,” Dean bit out.  “I didn’t have the strength to jump into the hole with you, Sam.  And I was gonna do it, I swear.”

Sam had wanted Dean to get out of the life, go settle down with Lisa and Ben, but what life could he have had when he’d sent his little brother into that Hell alone?  If he couldn’t have done it _for_ Sam, _instead_ of Sam, he would have at least gone into the pit _with_ him.  So Sammy wouldn’t be there alone.  But his body had been too broken for Dean to move and he had failed Sam again.  

“Dean, tell me you didn’t...” Sam trailed off, but his horrified expression said plenty.

“I didn’t make a crossroads deal, Sam, if that’s what you’re asking.  After you gave your life to put him back in the pit, I couldn’t risk letting Lucifer out again, and I doubt there’s a demon alive who could’ve opened the box, even if I wanted to make a deal, or they’d have done it ages ago to get Lucifer free, without all the shit that went down the last couple of years.  Besides, a demon wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about _Cas_.”

Dean was weezing by the end of that lengthy speech.  Sam sat him up and held a glass of water and this time wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Dean choked down a few mouthfuls, for all the good it would do.  Sam knew as well as he did that he wasn’t going to be able to keep even a few sips of water down.

Dean was barely able to turn his head to the side when, sure enough, he puked up the water with some phlegm and bile.  It pissed Dean off when Sam mother-henned and cleaned him up, but Dean didn’t have the strength to do much of anything anymore.  His muscle mass had vanished overnight.

Sam brought the soiled towel into the bathroom and returned with a clean one.  It was probably the last clean one unless Sam had called the front office sometime when Dean was out of it.  Sam wouldn’t be able to take a shower now.  Served the nosy little shit right.  If he had let Dean go back to sleep instead of pressing him to talk about all this stupid shit...

When he’d situated the towel beside Dean, Sam resumed their conversation.  “If you didn’t make a crossroads deal, how’d I come back?”

“I told you.  Same thing as after Lucifer was reborn.  A big flash of light.”

“Dean, I woke up in a motel _days_ after the showdown.  What else happened?  What aren’t you telling me?”

Dean’s throat tightened.  He glared at Sam as if he could will his brother to stop poking at this.  Sam stared back impassively and raised a demanding eyebrow.

“I _prayed,_ okay?  I got on my knees and prayed to God.  I burned Bobby’s corpse right there in the cemetery, dragged my broken ass to a hotel, and I prayed.  For _days_ , I prayed.  How was I supposed to live when he’d taken away everyone I’ve ever loved?  I yelled that I’d cleaned up his fucking mess and he’d taken _everything_ away from me.  You.  Bobby.  Cas.  I had _nothing_ left.”

“Dean…”

But Dean had started and he was going to get it all out.  He wheezed his way through, taking painful gasps of air every few words, but he kept going.  He vomited out the words like he had the water.  

“I would _do anything_.  I would _give_ _anything_ … I _needed_ you guys back.  I needed _you_ back.  So I _begged_ him to take me instead.  There was a huge flash of light and you were there.  You were all there and you were all alright.  So it’s over.  All of it.  I got to see Bobby settle back at home with that pretty little policewoman, and she’s giving him the right kind of trouble.  And Cas… He’s back up in Heaven, setting those douche brothers in line.  And you… you’re going back to school.”

Sam had kept quiet through the entire awkward speech, but here he interrupted.   “Dean…”

And no, he wasn’t going to have this fight with Sam again.  Sam was going to go back to school and have a normal life, away from all this Hunting and Apocalypse crap.  Sam was going to be fine.  Dean _needed_ Sam to be fine.  “And you’re going back to school,” he insisted.  “Get on with your life.  So I’m fine with this.  I’m _fine_.”

He was more exhausted now.  He hadn’t spoken much in days, and the effort had taken everything out of him.  He slumped down onto his bed.  The conversation was over.

Unfortunately, he was the only one who thought that.

“Okay, but why now?” Sam asked.

Dean reopened his eyes.  “What?”

“If this is some divine crossroads deal, your life in exchange for mine, why are you dying _now_?  It’s been months since Stull.  Why didn’t you immediately die, or in 10 years, or in 1 year?  Why do you think this ‘deal’ has to be connected with your current illness?”

Dean wanted to throw up his hands.  He would have if he was strong enough.

“ _You_ were the one who demanded… ‘tell me about what happened, Dean’!  ‘It’s our only clue about why you’re sick, Dean’!”

Sam scoffed.  “Dean, I _know_ you and how you think.  You don’t want to call Cas, you don’t want help, you’re shutting all of us out, because you _do_ think you traded your life for ours.  Just like when you sold your soul to bring me back.  But nothing in your story suggests you really did.  You prayed to God, there was a light, we’re back.  Why are you so certain _this_ illness is connected with _that_?”

“Because I felt something, okay?  When the light flashed--something pierced my heart.  Ever since, I’ve had this ache in my chest.  It’s gotten worse as I got sick.  And I can feel… it won’t be long, okay?  Tomorrow is September 18th.”

Sam’s brows furrowed.  “What’s significant about the 18th?”

“It’s the day…” Dean let out a huff of breath and tried again.  “It’s the day I crawled outta my grave.”

“Wow.  Um, okay.”  Sam’s eyes widened. “Okay.  I guess that does suggest a connection with our return and your illness.  Why haven’t you said anything about it before...?”

Dean didn’t answer.  What could he tell his brother?  That he was terrified if he did anything it would all be taken away?  That Sam would vanish back into the pit, Bobby would be lying dead at his feet, and Cas would be blown up in front of him?  Dean saw it all in his nightmares.  He couldn’t bear to see it happen again in real life.  Not again.

“Damn it, Dean!” Sam cursed.  “This is just like when you sold your soul.  You aren’t even _trying_ to do something about it.  You’re giving up!  You don’t _know_ if this is some divine crossroads deal. You only _think_ _maybe_ God is taking your life in exchange for bringing us back.  You don’t _know_!”

Dean wasn’t giving up!  He was being practical!  It wasn’t like he was doing _nothing_ about it.  He’d asked Bobby to do some research when he got sick a week ago, and clearly Bobby had been talking to Sam since then.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Dean gritted out.

Sam threw up his arms.  “Call Cas!  If this is some divine crossroads deal, he might have some idea on what’s going on.  Besides, don’t you think after everything he did for us, for _you_ , he might want to see you before you die, _if_ you’re actually going to die?”

“If he had an idea of what’s going on, he’d either come down and tell me, or he doesn’t care!”

Sam crossed his arms and glared.  There wasn’t going to be any budging his stubborn brother this time.

“Fine,” Dean growled.  “I’ll fucking call Cas.” For all the good it was going to do, he tipped his head down and put his hands together in a prayer position.  “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel that I might be dying and Sam thinks I should call you.”

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Great, Dean.  Real mature.”

If Sam didn’t like how Dean had prayed, he could do it himself.  It would be the same damn result anyway.  Cas hadn’t shown up, like Dean _knew_ he wouldn’t.  Because it’s not like Cas had shown up _at all_ since the Apocalypse ended.  Just a stupid ‘maybe I should check on Heaven’ and poof he had fucking left without a goodbye!

Maybe now Sam would shut up and let Dean die in peace.  Literally.  Dean was beyond exhausted and everything was hurting.  He wanted to sleep--

The familiar flutter of wings preceded Cas’ arrival.  Relief washed over Dean like a splash of cold water.  One instant he’d been in pain, the next he felt fine, better than fine.  His shrunken stomach filled back out, his shriveled muscle mass was restored, and his exhaustion vanished like he’d downed a bucket of espresso.  Hell, even his mouth was feeling minty-fresh.

Sam gaped.  Dean’s expression had to have been the same.

Cas looked at Dean, looked at Sam, around the room, and back to Dean with his usual intense focus.  “You do not appear to be dying, Dean,” Cas stated.

“I got better?” Dean offered, because he had nothing else he could say.  It’s not like he had any idea what’d happened.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Cas asked.  His brows were furrowed in annoyance rather than his usual bafflement.

“What joke?” Dean asked.

“Is what a joke?” Sam asked at the same time, looking as confused as Dean felt.

“Dean said he was dying, but he’s not dying.  Is this a joke?”

“It’s not joke, Cas.  I was dying.  Then I wasn’t.  I don’t know what the Hell happened.”

“You’re serious?  You are not ‘playing’ a ‘joke’?” Cas asked, awkwardly finger quoting.

“Cas, we wouldn’t have called you down here for a joke, and we definitely wouldn’t joke about dying.  Not after this past year.”

“You didn’t…” Dean waved his hands awkwardly in front of him.  “I dunno, _do_ something to heal me when you arrived here?”

“I did not heal you, Dean.  There was nothing wrong with you when I came in here.”

“So if Cas didn’t heal me, seriously, what the fuck happened?”

“Maybe it was some sort of demon disease that was cleared up by the proximity of Cas’ Grace?” Sam mused.

“I felt no demonic taint when I entered the room,” Cas shot down that theory.

“You know what, who cares?” Dean dismissed, as he got up out of bed.  His duffle was on the floor over by the table.  He went over and rummaged through, looking for clean clothes.  No way was he going out in the soiled ones he’d been wearing when he’d been all dying and shit, and there was no way he wasn’t going out now that he’d recovered.

“You don’t think that’s kind of important?!”  And yup, there it was, the full-on Sam Bitchface.

Dean felt great…better than great.  Better than he’d felt in ages.  His illness was completely gone, including the chest ache he’d had since Stull.  He felt... amazing.  “No, I don’t.  I was sick, now I’m not.”

Ah, that was the shirt he was looking for.  The one the waitress in the last town had said brought out his eyes.  He grabbed the pile of clothes and made his way to the bathroom.  

“We’re going out and getting some burgers to celebrate the fact that I’m not dying after all.  Since you’re down here, Cas, you should join us.”

Without waiting for an answer, Dean stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and immediately began to change his clothes.

“I don’t eat.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “I know you don’t _need_ to eat, but you _can_ eat,” he called out through the door.

“I should return to Heaven,” Cas hemmed.

Dean stopped halfway through putting on his pants.  He opened the door a crack and popped his head out.  Cas looked up at the sound of the door opening, his eyes immediately finding Dean’s.  “Cas, are you telling me you flew down for a second, the first time in months you’ve visited, and you’re going to poof right back up to heaven?”

As he was talking, Dean noted how Cas had broken his eye contact, his gaze shifting down for a split second before settling to the side.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean cajoled.  “You came all the way down here, might as well hang out for a bit before going home, or you’d have wasted a trip.”

“Seriously, Dean?!” Sam sputtered.

What was Sam’s problem?   “What?”

“Just… finish changing clothes before talking.  We _really_ don’t need to see your ass.”

Dean glanced down.  Shit, he wasn’t quite as behind the door as he thought he was.  Oh well.  He shrugged, pushed the door closed again with his hip, and resumed changing his pants.

“You’re just jealous!” he shouted through the door.

Sam scoffed.  “Of what?”

“My _ass_ -ets!”  That was a good pun.  Dean chuckled.

“Dude,” Sam groaned.  “I don’t know what’s worse.  The fact you made that pun or that you think it was funny.”

By this time Dean was about finished.  He reopened the door as he threw his shirt on.  “Oh come on.  I’m adorable.  Right, Cas?”

And wow that was a deer-in-the-headlights kind of look coming off the angel.  Dean rolled his eyes.  “ _That_ was a joke, Cas.”  Dean grabbed his keys from the table.  “Come on, let’s go grab some grub.”

*************************************

“Hello, boys, welcome to Perry’s.  My name is Doris and I’ll be taking your orders this evening.  Can I start you boys off with something to drink?”  Doris was middle-aged but had all the right kind of curves.  She smiled prettily and her gaze lingered on Dean.

Dean returned her smile with his flirty grin.  “Hi, Doris.  We’ll take 3 beers.”

“I’ll get those right out for you while you look at the menu.”

Dean hummed appreciatively as Doris walked back behind the counter.  He didn’t bother looking at the menu; he knew what he was going to have.  Sam glanced at his, and Cas stared at his menu as if it held the meaning of life.

It didn’t take Sam too long to decide on whatever rabbit food he was going to eat, but Cas was still studiously reading every word on the menu when Doris got back with their beer.

“Ready to order?” she asked cheerfully.

Dean gave her a winning smile.  “Sure thing.  I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger, medium rare.”

“Fries with that?”

“Don’t you know it.”  He winked.

“I’ll have the grilled chicken salad.”

Ugh.  Rabbit food shit.  Sam had no taste.

“And you, sugar?” Doris asked Cas.

Seeing as Cas was frozen, Sam asked, “Um, do you need any help with that, Cas?”

“I have no idea what to pick,” Cas admitted.  “I have hardly eaten anything before.”

“Whatever, man.  Get the burger, like me.”

Cas kept looking between Dean and the menu, a hint of a frown on his otherwise impassive face.

“You don’t need to order a burger if you don’t want to--” Sam started.

What sort of nonsense was that?  “What, you don’t want burgers?  You _love_ burgers!”

“Seriously, Dean?!” And why the hell was Sam giving him Bitch Face again?

While Cas glanced anxiously from Sam to Dean, Doris stood there with her pad in hand, giving them all a ‘what the hell is up with these guys’ kind of look.

“Just order a burger, Cas,” Dean ordered.

“I… will have a burger.”

“How’d you like it?”

“I…” Cas stammered.  “...Like Dean’s.”

“Sure thing, sugar.  I’ll go put your order in.”

Doris collected the menus from Dean and Sam, but Cas seemed to think it was a novel he had to keep reading until he reached the end of it.  Dean gave her a ‘what can you do’ shrug, and Doris realized she wasn’t getting it back.

After she left to take another customer’s order, Cas continued to read his menu, Sam glared, and Dean tried to figure out what the hell Sam’s problem was.   Dean hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was Sam getting all bitchy at him?

Coming up with nothing, Dean demanded to know, “What?”

Sam’s glare intensified, like he was trying to burn a hole in Dean’s head or something. “Could you excuse us for a second, Cas?  I need to speak with Dean.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him away from their table and down the little hall towards the restrooms.

“What are we, chicks?” Dean grumbled.

Sam stopped halfway down the hall and was practically looming over Dean.  It fucking blew chunks that his baby brother was taller than him, but he didn’t usually use it on Dean like this.

“What the hell, Sam?”

“Do you even remember when Cas last ate burgers?”

“Yeah.  He loved them.  He ate like hundreds of them.”

“Yes.  He was _compelled_ to eat _hundreds_ of burgers to the point where he was stuffing _raw burger meat_ into his mouth.  Do you think _maybe_ he might not be as interested in eating burgers after that?”

“There’s no such thing as too many burgers,” Dean said, maybe a touch petulantly.

“Dean,” Sam hissed.

“What?  I’m just saying!”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean needed to get back to his beer; there was a pit in his stomach and his mouth was dry.  He was done with this shit.  “Look, if Cas didn’t want to eat burgers, he wouldn’t have ordered a burger.”

“Yes, he would, Dean.  Because he just did.  And he’ll eat it anyway because _you_ love burgers.”

Dean frowned.  “What are you saying?”

Sam threw his hands up.  “Nothing.  Do what you want, Dean.  That’s what you always do.”  He stormed back to the table.

Dude, why the hell was Sam PMSing?  Dean had freaking almost died today, and yet instead of celebrating, Sam had to go be a little bitch about--well, Dean wasn’t sure what his problem was.  If Cas didn’t want burgers, he wouldn’t have ordered a burger.  What did that have to do with Dean?

Argh. This was stupid.  Sam was stupid.

Dean started back to the table when he saw Doris was back in the kitchen, putting up their orders into the cook’s queue.

Dean let out a huge sigh.   _He_ was stupid.

“Hey, Doris,” Dean called into the kitchen.  “Would it be possible to change those burgers?”

“Sure, darling.  What can I get for you instead?”  She grabbed the slip and her pen, and waited as Dean struggled to think of something else to eat other than burgers.

“Change them to--I don’t know--waffles.”

“Waffles?”

“Yeah.  Side of bacon for both.”

“Real maple syrup?”

“There’s no other kind.”

“Two orders of waffles with real maple syrup and a side of bacon.  Anything else for you, darling?”

“Nope, that’ll be fine.  Thanks, Doris.”

“No problem, sugar.”

Dean went back to the table.  Sam was still pissy and Cas was still reading his menu, and this really wasn’t the celebration Dean had wanted.  Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for the food to arrive.

Cas looked at the plate in front of him, looked over at the similar one in front of Dean and frowned with confusion. “I thought we were getting burgers?”

“They were, um, out of burgers,” Dean lied.

“Dean, those people are eating burgers--”

Dean cleared his throat and avoided looking at Cas’ earnest expression or Sam’s fucking ‘I’m so proud of you’ smile that made Dean want to kick him under the table.  Whatever.

“Shut up.  I just felt like eating waffles.”

Dean had gotten halfway through his plate before Cas had finished precision-cutting his waffles into perfectly bite-sized pieces.  Cas poured a small pool of syrup at the edge of his plate and speared one piece of waffle with his fork, dipping it into the syrup.

With his first bite, Cas lit up.

“Dean…!”

Dean let out a low chuckle.  Cas was ridiculous.

Cas poured the rest of the bottle of syrup, soaking his waffles in sticky, sugary sweetness.  If an angel could purr, Cas would be doing so as he rapturously savored each bite.

Cas had cleaned his plate before Dean remembered to finish his.  

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Dean takes a sip of his beer and smiles at the pretty brunette sitting next to him--‘Crystal’, she claims is her name.  If this was a regular bar, he’d probably hook up with her, but Dean’s not into paying for sex.  He doesn’t have to; usually he’ll find some pretty woman at a bar who’s up for a bit of fun for a night, and if not, well, that’s what the internet’s for.

He’s only at this brothel--the ‘den of iniquity’ as Cas called it--because of Cas.  No way Dean would let Cas go off and (possibly) die the next day still a virgin!  ‘Sit there quietly’ Dean’s ass.  Bert and Ernie are most definitely gay, and Dean is going to make sure Cas has some fun before he (possibly) dies in the morning!

Now Cas is somewhere in the back, having his virginity taken care of by a certain Miss Chastity.  He’s in good hands; Chastity’s probably popped more than a few cherries in her time.  Still, Cas had looked so petrified when Chastity approached him...  Cas is supposed to be enjoying this.  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.  Dean takes another swig of beer.  

“You know,” the pretty girl on his arm purrs, “my shift ends in five minutes.”

Dean had almost forgotten she was there.  “Oh?”

“You came in that pretty black Impala ‘67, didn’t you?” she coos.

Dean grins.  If there’s one thing he likes more than a pretty woman, it’s a pretty woman who can appreciate his baby.

“Maybe you can give me a tour of it.”  She leans close and whispers into his ear, “Off the clock.”

Dean doesn’t bother to finish his beer, but lets her pull him up.  He follows her halfway across the room before he pauses.  Something is supposed to happen--a disturbance or something--but everything seems quiet.  Crystal tugs on his arm, but he can’t move yet.  Why is he waiting for something to go wrong?  

“Come on, Dean,” she urges.

He’s being paranoid.  Cas is fine.  He’s a freaking Angel of the Lord.  He doesn’t need Dean holding his freaking hand, not for sex.  Besides, there’s a hot chick who wants Dean to bang her in the back of his car.  Dean lets her lead him towards the exit for a few more steps.

There’s a disturbance coming from the back.  He fucking _knew_ it!

Dean ducks down the hall, and sure enough, Cas is at the center of things.  He doesn’t look rumbled, which surprises Dean.  Not that he _wants_ to see Cas all rumbled and hot and bothered.  Dean just didn’t expect him to be standing so blase, particularly with Chastity screeching in his face.

“Get out of my face! Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!”

With a final glare at Cas, she storms off.

Dean watches her pass and turns back to Cas.  “The hell did you do?”

“Nothing,” Cas tells him.  “She’s acting this way because this is how she acted when this actually happened.”

Dean closes his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head.  “Yeah, that doesn’t make a lick of sense, Cas.”

“Regardless, it’s the truth.”

After all that yelling from Chastity, it’s not gonna be long before the bouncers come.  Dean’s surprised they haven’t chased Cas out already.  

“Dean, aren’t you _coming_?” Crystal asks suggestively as she grabs his arm.  “Don’t you _want_ to be?”

Dean startles.  He’d forgotten about her.  “Crystal.  Right.  Um…”

Dean looks over at Cas.

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Dean…” she says, trying to call his attention back to her.

Keeping his gaze on Cas, he tells her, “Sorry, rain check on that maybe.  I suspect my friend here is about to get kicked out of this place.”

Crystal shakes her head.  “He can wait in the bar,” she insists.

Dean turns to her.  “Really?”

“Of course.  He’ll be fine there.  Let’s go, Dean.  I’m _really_ excited to see your car.”

Dean lets himself be pulled a few more feet, but Cas stands there, in the middle of the hallway, and this doesn’t feel right.

This might be Cas’ last night on earth.  They came here _for Cas_.  Dean can’t ditch him to go mack on a chick in the back of his car, no matter how ‘fine’ Cas claims to be with this.

“You can go with her, Dean,” Cas tells him.  And seriously, when the hell did Cas get so calm hanging around a brothel?  Isn’t he supposed to be freaking out?  Unsure where to look?  Why the hell is Cas fine with the idea of Dean leaving him alone?

Does Cas really think Dean’s that much of an asshole? That he’ll be abandoned so Dean can get lucky?  No fucking way!  Dean came here for Cas’ sake, and if Cas isn’t getting lucky here, then Dean isn’t going to stick around either.

Dean shrugs away from Crystal and walks over to Cas.  “I’m not going to leave you alone at a bar on what might be your last night on earth, Cas.”

Cas steps back, his eyes wide.  “No, Dean, it’s alright--”

“Dean…” Crystal calls from behind him.

“Come on, Cas, let’s get out of here.”  He throws his arm around Cas’ shoulder.

Dean remembers.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans.

He’s picked Cas again.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

When Dean got sick for the second time, he waited long enough to determine that yes, it had started with the pain in his chest, his symptoms were the same as last time, and it was getting progressively worse, before calling Cas down.  Cas might have claimed he hadn’t done anything to heal him, but Dean _had_ gotten better when the angel had arrived, so it was worth a shot if Cas could help again.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray that Castiel get his feathery butt down here because your previous cure didn’t last.”

As soon as he finished his prayer, Dean’s pain was gone, his lungs were clear, and his strength was back.  He wasn’t surprised when he turned around and found Cas there.

“Dean, I told you, I didn’t do anything last time.”

“Well, your ‘not doing anything’ is doing _something_ ,” Dean shot back.

Cas’ eyes narrowed.  “I cannot keep coming down here, Dean.  I’m needed in Heaven.”

“I’m sorry, you can’t fucking take a few minutes to come check out what’s wrong when I call you?  I haven’t called you down often--just a few times to help with some cases.  Hell, last time you said it’d been a _good_ thing we called you because it turned out to have been an old angel weapon!  I don’t see why you’re getting all pissy now.  I’m not asking for much!”

“I do not have time for trivial matters--”

“‘Trivial matters?!’  What the hell, Cas?  I’m sorry helping out someone who is _supposed_ to be your _friend_ is a ‘trivial matter’ to you!” Dean yelled back.

“I don’t have time to go eat burgers with you, Dean.  Or to play pool, or to help on a hunt, or whatever little notion flits through your head where you decide it’s easier to call on an angel than to deal with it yourself!”

What the fuck had died and crawled up Cas’ butt to make him such a fucking bitch?!

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t fucking call you down for fun, I called you down because I was _dying_ and somehow I got better when you showed up.  I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, and I’m a little freaked out about it.  But whatever, man.  Now the Apocalypse is over, you have no need for me, huh, is that it?  I thought we were _friends_ , Cas.”

“We are friends, Dean, but I don’t know what you expect of me.  You aren’t ill.  I can sense no illness in you.  I do not understand how my presence can somehow make you not ill, particularly when I have seen no evidence of you being ill in the first place.   _You_ said you were done with ‘all that angel crap’ and you were ‘kicking it back with simple monster hunts from here on out’.”  Cas finger quoted as he gave a close approximation of Dean’s inflection.  “And I am needed in Heaven--”

“Oh, shut _up_ about Heaven!  Are you really that fucking busy--”

“Yes, Dean, I _am_ really that ‘fucking’ busy!”  Cas still did his awkward finger quoting in the middle of his shouting.

[ ](http://www.comiku.com/hunters/pics/DCBB17-Grandle1.png)

It was fucking ridiculous, but Cas being goofy couldn’t disrupt Dean’s anger.  “The Apocalypse is over, what could possibly be keeping you so busy you can’t spare a minute to come down here, huh?”

“It is simple,” Cas growled.  “Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. I -- and many others -- the _last_ thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.”  Dean crossed his arms.  “What happens if Raphael wins?  Why would it be so bad?  What does he want?”

Cas all but rolled his eyes.  “What he's always wanted: to end the story the way it was written.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up.  “You mean the Apocalypse, the one we derailed?”

“Yes. That one. Raphael and his side want to put it back on the rails.  I and my followers are trying to stop him.”

Okay, _that_ stopped Dean up short.  “Wait.  Cas.  Followers and sides and… it sounds like you’re talking a civil war.  In Heaven.”

“Technically, yes.”

And oh shit.  If Cas is leading a fucking civil war in Heaven… Dean could understand why Cas was complaining about all the times Dean had called him down the past few months.  He’d come every time Dean had called, even when Dean hadn’t really needed anything important, but fuck, it’s not like Cas had _said_ anything about a civil war in Heaven...  

“Which is why I don’t have time to come running every time you’re _bored_ , Dean,” Cas added.

And Cas just blew whatever apology Dean was about to make.   If that’s how Cas was going to play it, then that’s how Dean would play it.  Shit was about to get ugly.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Why are you doing this?”

Watery blue eyes meet his through the rearview mirror.  But these eyes lack the depth and intensity they should have.

“You’re a Hunter!  You’re supposed to protect people like me from the supernatural creatures who prey on us!”

The voice isn’t deep enough, not monotone enough.  The Impala rumbles to a stop.

“Why are you choosing one of the creatures you’re supposed to hunt over one of the people you’re supposed to save?”

There’s no ‘barely constrained power’ just under his skin.  No unnatural strength to stop Dean from manhandling him out of his car.

“What gives you the right?!”

Dean doesn’t answer.  He doesn’t have the right to do what he’s doing.  Everything about this is completely, morally wrong.  He knows this.  But he would do anything, _anything_ , for his family.  He’s already sold his soul once.  Now he’ll sell someone else’s.

“Why are you sacrificing a human life for one of them?!” comes the final desperate plea.

“You’re already dead, Jimmy,” Dean growls.  “This body belongs to Cas.”

Dean shoves Jimmy into the warehouse where the demons are waiting.  He doesn’t care what they’ll do to Jimmy or the danger this puts Jimmy’s family in.  It’s a means to an end; Cas will sense the demonic danger to his vessel and return from heaven.  Jimmy will give Cas his consent because he’d rather Cas take over his body than Claire’s.  Jimmy would give up his own life to protect his wife and daughter.  Then Cas will be back where he belongs and everything will be back the way it should be.

It’s wrong, what he’s doing, but Dean doesn’t care.  Between Jimmy and Cas, Dean will always pick Cas.

Dean wants his angel back.

When the warehouse door reopens after the light show, Cas steps out, his eyes unnaturally blue and his small form crackling with power.  He’s in a stolen body and yet he is exactly the way he should be.  Dean puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Dean remembers.

And as much guilt as he feels for Jimmy and his family and what Dean and Cas have done to them, Dean doesn’t regret picking Cas.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“I’m not calling him, Sam,” Dean proclaimed.  Or at least tried to.  The hacking up a lung thing lessened the impact of his statement.  And fuck that hurt.  He’d had cracked ribs which caused less pain than whatever the hell was wrong with his chest now.  No wait, that _was_ a cracked rib.  His fucking coughing had fractured his ribs.

“Dean, it’s getting worse.”

No shit.

“He’s ‘busy’,” Dean insisted.  He’d be fine.  Cas claimed both times he didn’t do anything, so if Cas hadn’t done anything, they didn’t need to call him down.  Dean tried to lift his head so he could glare at his brother.  Oh fucking hell, he couldn’t sit up anymore.

“Dean, your stomach is so shrunken, it looks like you’ve been starving for months rather than a day.  This isn’t ‘normal’, whatever this illness is.  Neither Bobby or I can find _anything_ that matches your symptoms, this is your third time getting sick like this, and it’s getting worse!  The first time you got sick, it took _days_ for your symptoms to get this bad.  This time, it’s only been _hours_.  I don’t care whatever fight you and Cas had last time, tell him you’re sorry and call him!”

“I’m fine,” Dean grunted.

“Dean!  You’re dying and you’re being childish!”

Dean’s perfect rebuttal was replaced with a phlegmy weeze.

“Dean?!” Sam cried out, panicked.

Dean wanted to reassure Sam but his whole body was shutting down hard.  And _fast_.  It _had_ taken days for Dean to feel close to this ill last time, and now he was probably at death’s door in less than one.  In the shape he was in now, Dean didn’t think he was capable of calling Cas down, even if he’d wanted to.

Sam was going on about something, but Dean wasn’t able to make out his words anymore.  He couldn’t see or hear much of anything.  Fuck.  He might actually be dying after all.  

Shit.  He wanted to see Sam get into school again.  He didn’t want his last words with Cas to be their stupid fight.  He wanted--

It happened as suddenly as the previous times; one second he was dying, the next he was perfectly healthy as if the last 17-hours had been nothing but a nightmare.

Sam sat next to him, and his relief was palpable.  Across the room, sure enough, stood Cas.  Dean couldn’t read the angel’s expression.  He was probably annoyed, getting called down when he was so busy in heaven.

“Cas, how…? I didn’t--”

“Sam called,” Cas informed him.

“Look, I know it looks like I’m fine, but I swear, I--”

“I observed your condition before I entered the room.”

Dean’s relief shifted into annoyance.  “So _now_ you believe me that I’ve been fucking sick.”

Cas all but rolled his eyes as he gave Dean his douche-bag angel ‘you are a pissant little mud-monkey and I don’t know why I bother with you’ look.

“Dean, I _am_ busy--”

“With the war in Heaven, yeah, you told me already.  Geez, it’s not like I’m calling you down here for my health…” Dean trailed off when his brain caught up with his mouth.  “Shit, I mean, I am, but… fuck it.”

“Cas, do you know what’s wrong with him?” Sam asked, cutting through the tension that had formed between Dean and Cas.

“I am not sure.  I didn’t notice any demonic or magical energy, nor do I have any understanding how my presence can cure Dean’s illness.”

Yeah, it wasn’t a good sign when the freaking angel of the lord didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“Dean, I would like to examine you.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped.  Shit.  He looked wildly between Cas and Sam, and cleared his throat.  Clamping down on the butterflies in his stomach, he quipped, “Well, that’s a little forward of you, Cas.  Buy a guy a drink first, would ya?”

Cas tilted his head.  “I don’t understand that reference.”

Sam snorted.  “He’s making an off-color joke, Cas.”

“I see.”  It didn’t look like he did.  Cas turned back towards Dean.  “I need to examine your soul,” he explained.

Dean swallowed.  He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.  “Um.  Okay.  How’s that work?”

Cas reached his hand out towards Dean’s chest but hesitated.  He placed his hand onto Dean’s shoulder instead.  Despite the couple layers of shirts, Dean could feel a tingle from the branded handprint Cas had left on him when he’d raised him from Perdition.

If it wasn’t for their close proximity, Dean might not have noticed Cas startle.  Dean looked towards him before he could consider how that was a terrible idea.  Now they were staring at each other, their faces inches apart.  Fuck, Dean didn’t get that up close and personal with some of the women he’d hooked up with, and yet here he was, inches from a _dude_.

_Not a dude.  Cas._

His heart jack-hammered in his chest and his mouth had gone Sahara.  He licked his lips, but whatever quip he was gonna say about ‘personal space’ died in his mouth when he caught sight of a flicker of movement as Cas bit his lower lip.  Dean’s breath hitched ever so slightly.

Cas broke their intense stare and backed away as if Dean was diseased.  What the fuck?  Dean _wasn’t_ diseased, thank you very much.  Except maybe he was?  Maybe he really did have some sort of weird supernatural death flu?  Was it contagious?!  Was he going to get Cas sick?  Sam?!

“Cas?” Dean hesitantly asked.  He wasn’t sure what he was asking, but the name seemed to incorporate everything he wanted to know.

“I need to…” Cas trailed off.

It was the only warning Dean had before Cas vanished.

Dean’s mouth fell open.  Cas just fucking _left_?!

“Dammit, Cas!  Get back here!”

Dean whipped his head around, but it was only Sam and him in the room.  Sam’s cheeks were slightly pink and he was studiously looking away from Dean, and Dean realized how that, whatever-that-was between Cas and him, might have looked.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean cursed up into the air.

************************************

Dean and Sam were sitting down for dinner in their motel room when Cas reappeared at the other side of the room.  He slumped down and Dean was up, moving towards the angel.  Cas’s face was pale and gaunt, and he had dark circles around his eyes.  It must have been a trick of the light--as soon as Dean put his hands onto Cas’ arm to steady him, Cas stood up on his own and he looked fine.

“Hello, Dean.  Sam,” Cas greeted.  Okay, so clearly the angel wasn’t hurt after all.

Dean found he could breathe again.

“Don’t you ‘hello’ me,” Dean bit out, turning back towards his seat.  “Not after you did that freaky-soul gazing thing on me and ditched without a word of what you saw.”  Dean dropped back onto his chair and glared at the angel.

“Did you figure out what’s happening to Dean?” Sam prompted.  

“I did,” Cas confirmed, and turned to Dean, “But you’re not going to like it.”

Dean snorted.  “Of course.”  When had he liked anything in his life lately?

“So what’s going on?” Sam asked.

“Dean has an Enochian sigil on him.”

“An Enochian sigil?  Like what you carved onto our ribs?” Sam asked.

“Of a sort,” Cas answered Sam.  “Though this one was added after the ones I drew.”

“I thought we were done with your douche-bag brothers, Cas,” Dean grumbled.  “So what does this one do?  A tracker of some sort, since I’m otherwise off Angel-radar?  Can’t have been Michael or Zachariah, or I’d never have had any peace from them.”

“I cannot say for certain, as my Grace had been diminished this past year, but I do not believe this sigil was on you before Stull.”

Sam paled and Dean tensed.

“So your assbutt brothers gave me a death curse or something as they were falling into the pit?”  That would explain quite a bit of what was going on, actually.

“Considering the nature of the sigil, I... I do not believe it would have been either Michael or Lucifer who drew it.”

“Okay, so what does this sigil do?” Sam asked, trying to gather all the information like the geek he was.

Cas hesitated.  Rather than answering directly, or even looking at Dean, he stepped over to the motel desk and picked up a pen and pad.  With a few graceful swishes, Cas had drawn something.  Still without looking at either Dean or Sam, he dropped the pad onto the table beside them.  Sam snatched it up and furrowed his brows.

“This looks familiar,” Sam noted.  “But I can’t place where I’ve seen it before.”

Dean grabbed the pad out of Sam’s hands.  Not that he had much chance if his geek brother was stumped, but he wasn’t too bad with sigils.

He glanced down and blanched.  He knew this sigil.

“Dean?” Sam questioned.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean barked out at Cas.

“I assure you, this is no jest.”

“What is it?” Sam asked again.  “Where did we come across this sigil before?”

“A few months ago,” Dean answered, his voice clipped.  “February.  Valentine’s Day to be exact.  When we faced down Famine.”

This time Sam paled, clearly having put it all together.  “Oh.  Oh shit.  A Cupid Mark?!”

“Who?” Dean demanded, forcing Cas’ attention back to him.

“I don’t know for certain who put the sigil on you, Dean, but I have a few theories--”

“No,” Dean cut him off.  “Who has the matching one.  Because that’s how this works, right?  I’m fucking paired off with some poor sap who’s got no choice in the matter.”

He’d deal with whatever asshole Cupid Marked him and why after he found out whose life he had now put in danger.  He needed to make sure whoever she was, she was going to be safe until they could find a way to get the mark off them.  No one deserved getting saddled with him!

“There is _always_ a choice, Dean, even with a Cupid Mark.  You don’t--”

Dean scoffed.  “Like my parents had a choice?  I remember what the freaking cupid said about _making_ them fall in love when they started off hating each other.”

“Certainly if Heaven has an interest in a particular outcome, they will invest additional resources to ensure it happens, but most Cupid matches have no further interference from Heaven beyond the initial marking.  A Love-Bound couple Marked by a Cupid can choose not to act upon the matching--”

“Well, _I’m_ not going to act on it.  I’ve been dicked around by your douche brothers more than enough already, Cas.  I’m not gonna let them drag some unsuspecting woman into the mess that’s my life.”

And goddammit, why did Cas look bummed out?  He was supposed to be on Dean’s side, not on the side with his douche brothers who were making Dean’s life their fucking circus.

“It has to be someone you’ve been in contact with,” Sam noted.  “Because the Cupid's arrow hits a couple at the same time, right?” Sam directed that to Cas for confirmation.

“Yes.”

“And this happened sometime after Stull,” Sam continued.

“I believe so.”

Someone he’d been around since Stull?  Dean hadn’t hooked up with anyone in that time or felt a connection with any woman--not since he’d reconnected with Lisa, maybe, and he hadn’t seen her since _before_ Stull. The only person he’d had any real, significant contact with was Sam, and yeah, they might be ‘soulmates’ or whatever shit that had been up in Heaven, but Dean refused to consider he might also be ‘love-bonded’ with his little brother, no matter what some fangirls on the internet thought.

But that still left the question of who…?

“Cas,” Sam said.

Cas’ eyes went wide and he was doing that side-eyed gaze like when he had admitted to being a virgin, all awkward and unsure.

Dean tensed.  Oh sonofabitch, no.  Don’t say it.

“Cas,” Sam repeated.  “It’s you, isn’t it?  You have the matching sigil.”

His genius brother was smart enough to put the pieces together but not genius enough to know he shouldn’t.

“...Yes.”

“Sonofabitch,” Dean cursed.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Why would you fall?  Why would you want to be one of us?” Dean asks, because he can’t understand why an angel could possibly want to be human.

“You don’t mean that,” Anna tells him.

“I don’t?” Dean scoffs.  Because he knows what humans are like.  He knows what _he’s_ like.  “A bunch of -- of miserable bastards... Eating, crapping, confused, afraid.”

“I don't know. There's loyalty... forgiveness...”  Anna looks pointedly at Dean.  “Love.”

But Dean’s not buying it.  There is no love, not for someone like him.  Everybody he loves leaves him.  What there is, is… “Pain.”

Anna gets a hint of a smile and shoots back, “Chocolate cake.”

Dean should joke, because cakes are lies, _pie_ is what’s truly amazing, but he can’t joke.  Not about angels and falling.  And what good is letting--no, not _letting_ , but actively _causing_ \--an angel to fall?  All he has is… “Guilt.”

“Sex,” Anna says immediately.  

She looks at Dean intently and he knows they’re going to have sex.

“Yeah, you got me there,” he concedes her point.

Anna looks at him, her expression soft.  “I mean it. Every emotion, Dean, even the bad ones... It's why I fell.”

“How's that possible?”  How could an angel possibly want to fall?  For him?  Angels that fall are hopeless.  They whither.  And hurt.  Suffer.

Die.

Dean shakes his head.  “You guys are powerful and perfect.”

Power thrilling through them, shadows of wings through the flashes of lightning, walking in and owning the place.  Smiting a bunch of demons with only a touch.  Powerful and _perfect_.

“Perfect…” Anna cuts through his thoughts.  “Like a marble statue. Cold... no choice... only obedience.”

Junkless.  Content to just sit and pray.  Not like Dean’s base desires, the ones he buries and refuses to acknowledge...

Anna places her hand on Dean’s arm, startling him.  “So, um... I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Dean asks, because he doesn’t remember what she has to thank him for.

“Everything. You guys -- you didn't have to help me --”

Help?  Oh, right.  He and Sam had saved Anna.  They were going to get her Grace back.

Hadn’t they already gotten it back?

Anna kisses Dean.

“What was that for?”

Anna smiles at him.  “You know... Our last night on earth... All that.”

Dean smirks.  Because they’re totally going to have sex.  “You're stealing my best line.”

He leans down to kiss her back but hears a flutter of wings behind him.  Sure enough, there’s Cas, standing all awkward-like.

“Way to cock-block, Cas,” Dean complains, but it’s light-hearted.  He knows Cas didn’t mean any harm.  He’ll find out what Cas needs, and get back to Anna.  Because they’re totally about to have sex in the back of his car.

Anna clutches Dean’s arm, trembling.  “He’s going to kill me.”

“What…?  No, he…” But Cas is hunting Anna.  He and Uriel.  They are hunting Anna down to kill her as punishment for disobeying Heaven and Falling.

“He’s here to kill me, Dean!”  Anna insists.

Dean shakes his head. “No one’s killing anyone right now,” Dean declares.  “Isn’t that right, Cas?”

“I don’t want to kill Anna, Dean.”

“See?”

“Dean, he might not _want_ to kill me, but he will.  Orders are orders.”

“I won’t kill her.  Not now.  I’m not supposed to be here, Dean.  You remember.  It didn’t happen like this.”

Yeah, that _doesn’t_ sound ominous.  He starts towards Cas.  “Anna, wait here while I--”

“No,” Anna sharply cuts him off.

Dean stops and turns back to her.  “No?”

“No, Dean.  If you go to Castiel, I won’t wait for you.  He’s going to kill me.”

Cas has already said he isn’t here to kill Anna, and he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t need something from Dean, or if he didn’t have important information he needs to share.  “Wait a second, okay, Anna?  Just wait.”  Dean looks over at Cas.  “If you’re not here to kill Anna, why’re you here?”

“I… I have to be h… I don’t…” Cas stammers, full-on stammers, looking more uncomfortable than Dean has ever seen him, except maybe when they were at the brothel.

Wait.  Brothel?

“Dean, leave him.  Come with me!”  Anna presses up against his back, pulling him away from Cas and towards the Impala.

Because they have sex in the Impala.

“Just…” Dean glances back at Cas.  “Cas…?”

The angel’s normally stiff posture is slumped, and he looks downwards instead of maintaining his usual level of intense staring at Dean.

“You can go with her, Dean,” Cas says.  “That’s how it happened, so you don’t need to feel bad.”

Yeah, right.  How could Dean go off to sleep with some random chick when Cas needs him?

He can’t break his gaze away from Cas even as he tells Anna, “I just need to see what’s wrong…”

“Dean…” Anna calls from behind him.

He walks towards Cas.  Cas’s eyes widen.

“Dean, you don't have to--”

“I know I don’t have to.  But I need--” Dean places a reassuring hand on Cas’s shoulder.

Dean remembers.

“--You...”

Dean had chosen Cas _again_.

“Sonofabitch.”

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Don’t think I don’t hear you coughing,” Bobby said from the other side of the room.

When Dean didn’t respond, Bobby looked over at him, his eyes narrowed.

“When’d it start?”

Dean didn’t want to talk about it, but now that Bobby brought it up, it got Sam’s attention.  Now _both_ of them were staring at Dean, Bobby gruffly and Sam all worried-like.  Shit.

“About an hour ago,” Dean admitted.

“How long before you go critical?”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “I don’t know.  It hasn’t been consistent or anything.  The first time took days.  Almost a week.  Second time I didn’t let it go to the point of critical.  Third time I was moments away from taking a final breath after a little over 17 hours.”

Bobby nodded.  “Have you heard anything from that angel of yours?”

Dean glowered.  “He’s not _my_ angel.”

“We’re doin’ an awful lot of research that says otherwise,” Bobby scoffed.  “Besides, you two chuckleheads have been mooning over one another since you first laid eyes on each other.  That you now got some Cupid Mark connectin’ you is prolly the least surprising thing about this mess.”

Sam snorted with an aborted laugh.  Dean glared at both of them.

Bobby rolled his eyes.  “Oh, stop getting your panties in such a twist and answer the damn question!” he snapped.

Dean crossed his arms and frowned.  It _was_ a frown, dammit, not a pout!  “We haven’t seen him since he dropped by to tell me and Sam about the Mark, announced he was going to investigate, then flew off without another damn word.”

“Let’s hope he’s having better luck than we’re having,” Sam said.  “Because we’ve looked through every book of Bobby’s twice now and haven’t found anything about Cupid Marks, let alone how they can be used to kill someone.”

“Considerin’ none of us knew them angels existed until about three years ago, and most of our research since then was about the damn Apocalypse, that angel of yours is our best bet for finding out what to do about your illness, cuz we’re sure as hell _not_ finding squat.”

“He’s not--”

“Yeah, heard you the first time, ya idjit.  Since ya ain’t dyin’ just yet, make yourself useful and go grab the second volume of this.”

******************

By midafternoon, Dean had to stop helping with the research.  His growing migraine made all the words on the page he’d been trying to read bleed together.  Giving up, he left Bobby and Sam reading in the kitchen and settled onto the couch.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he opened his eyes to find a couple of throw blankets covering his lap, and Sam was now in the chair beside him.  Bobby had remained at the table in the kitchen.  Both were still nose-deep in some ancient book.

Fat lot of good any of it was doing.  They’d been searching through Bobby’s books for the past three days, and Bobby had been combing through everything he could get his hands on for months, ever since Dean first got sick.

“Find anything yet?” Dean snarked, or at least tried to.  He felt like he had razor blades running down his throat, and considering he’d actually had razor blades down his throat when he’d been tortured in Hell, he could accurately make that comparison.

Sam looked up at him and was doing that worried puppy look again.  Dean had the feeling he was looking worse than he felt, which was even worse than he sounded.  Sometime while he’d been asleep, his body had shrunk again.

“I’m fine, Sammy.  I’m fine,” Dean muttered.

He wasn’t fine.  And then he was.

He heard the tell-tale sound of fluttering wings, and sure enough, there was Cas.  

But Cas didn’t look fine.  His clothes were rumpled and he was covered in blood.  It was hard to say how much of the blood was his, but at least some had to be as blood dribbled from his ears and nose.  There was a glow coming off his back and Dean had seen enough angels dying to know glowing like that was _not_ a good sign.  Cas was sickly pale and shaking, unable to stand on his own; he was pressed way too close in the arms of some douche in a v-neck.

“Cas!” Sam cried out, already on his feet.

“Who--?” Dean started, but he was cut off by the stranger.

“We’re here, Cassie, but the proximity alone doesn’t seem to be enough.  What now?”

“...Touch,” Cas murmured.

The douche-bag looked over at Dean and Sam.  “Well, you heard him. Come over here and take him.  No, not you, sasquatch.  The other one.”

Sam threw a quick glance at Dean, but stepped back, giving Dean space to move towards the angels.

“I was dying seconds ago, you know,” Dean muttered, untangling himself from the blankets and climbing off the couch.

“And Castiel’s dying _now_ , so maybe you can get over yourself and hurry over here and take him already,” the douchebag shot back.

Dean didn’t know what was meant by ‘take him,’ but apparently the douche meant it literally.  He dumped Cas into Dean’s arms.

“Whoa!” Dean exclaimed, first from the surprise angel thrust at him, then from the thrum of energy resonating from the contact between them.

The air around them was tense with electricity.  Outside the wind whipped into a frenzy, and inside the lights flickered.  

Cas straightened up, no longer needing Dean to keep him on his feet.

The overhead light shattered above them, showering them with glass and plunging the room into darkness.  A shock of lightning flashed outside, illuminating the shadows of Cas’ wings.

“Holy shit!” Sam exclaimed.  Fuck, that was right.  This would be the first time Sam had ever seen Cas’ wings.  

Hell, the sight made Dean weak in the knees, and he’d seen them before.  

With a final blast of wind shaking the house, the supernatural storm ended.  Nobody spoke, the silence as thick as the darkness around them.

After a pregnant pause, the smarmy British voice of the unknown angel drawled, “A little dramatic there, wouldn’t you say, Cassie?”

“I… am sorry.  I was unable to contain the flare of my healing Grace.”

“I’ll just turn on this lamp, shall I?” Bobby grumbled.  He stumbled in the darkness over a pile of books, cursed, but a few moments later he flicked the lamp on, returning at least some illumination to the room.

Sam blinked owlishly, tucking his freakishly long legs up onto the chair as his eyes readjusted to the light.  Bobby continued to grumble about the damage to his house as he made his way back to his chair over by the kitchen.  The douchebag angel still stood where he poofed in, and-- What the hell was his problem?  Why was he smirking at Dean like that?  

Shit.  Dean still had his hand on Cas’ arm.

Cas hadn’t been able to stand on his own, and that dick had been the one who had pushed Cas into Dean’s arms in the first place…!

Cas’ eyes widened slightly when Dean pushed away from him.  Dean’s face burned, and he cast his gaze down so he didn’t have to see whatever look Sam was giving him, and he certainly didn’t want to see the douchebag angel and his annoying smirk!

Fuck that douchebag and his fucking _knowing_ look.  Fuck this.  Fuck all of this!

Dean flopped down onto the couch.  “Okay, so what the hell was that about?” Dean demanded.

“What do you think?” The dick-bag asked contemptuously.  “As you’ve been getting deathly ill, every time Castiel flies, his wings get shredded.  They’d gotten so torn apart that he was bleeding out Grace and would have died in some forgotten corner of the world if I hadn’t hauled his ass here.  And as Cassie being around you heals you, your touch heals him.”

“That’s great.  Thanks.  Who the hell are you, by the way?” Dean growled.

“Balthazar.  Charmed.”

“He’s an ally of mine against Raphael.  And a good friend,” Cas said, looking over at the other angel with a warm smile.

Dean clenched his jaw.

“So, the same sort of thing that’s been happening to Dean has been happening to Cas?” Sam asked.  Thank god Sam was asking the smart questions because at the moment Dean couldn’t.

“It appears so,” Cas confirmed.  “Someone has been using the Cupid Mark to curse us.”

“How’s that possible?”

“The Cupid Mark does leave an opening for someone who is powerful enough to exploit.  They would have to know, not only about the existence of the Mark, but exactly what it looked like.  But with that knowledge, there are certain spells and curses which could be used against us.”

“So kinda like a voodoo doll?”

“A similar principle, yes,” Cas agreed.

Dean frowned.  “So who’s doing it?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Balthazar responded.  “And whether the same being who’s currently messing with it is also the one made it.”

“That has been my assumption,” Cas said.  “Since it seems no one knows about the mark.”

“What’cha mean, no one knows about the mark?” Bobby asked.

“I’ve searched the Cupid files in Heaven.  There’s no report anywhere of a Cupid Mark for Dean.  In fact, most of the current reports are committee discussions on who Dean and Sam should be paired with.”

“What the hell?  Why are those fat angel babies getting involved in our love lives?”

“Well, you are the True Vessels for the Archangels Michael and Lucifer,” Cas explained. “There aren’t many humans who can contain an angel, let alone one of the Archangels.  While Michael and Lucifer are currently locked in the Cage, they still exist, and therefore the bloodline of the humans who can contain them must continue.”

Dean looked over at his brother.  The two had matching grimaces.  “Yeah, that’s not happening,” Dean muttered.

“It cannot happen for you, at least, Dean.  You’ve already been Marked.”

“So, there’s only one soulmate?” Sam questioned.

“A soulmate is not quite the same thing as a pair that is Cupid-Marked,” Cas explained.  “You and your brother are soulmates, for example.  Your souls are drawn together, and you share a Heaven.  But you are not Love-Bound by a Cupid Mark--”

“Yeah, that’s fascinating,” Dean interrupted.  “But that doesn’t mean shit right now.  The Cupids don’t know anything about the Mark on us.  So if they didn’t do it, who did?”

“Well, it could have been a rogue Cupid.  Someone going off books.”

“Considering the War in Heaven right now, there are more than a few rogue Cupids,” Balthazar added.

“So we can’t rule out Cupids after all.  So fat lotta good that does,” Dean grumbled.

“We know it wasn’t officially sanctioned in Heaven,” Cas started.

“And the rogue Cupids would only be a possibility if the Mark was only about you, Dean my boy.  But Cassie here is the other one marked and it’s impossible for a Cupid, rogue or otherwise, to have marked him.”

“What do you mean, impossible?” Sam asked.

“Impossible.  As in, cannot be done.  Moving beyond the fact there has never been an angel in the entire existence of angels that has ever had a Cupid Mark placed upon them, there is the fact that it’s just not possible for a Mark to have been placed on Castiel without him knowing about it.”

“And why’s that?” Dean demanded.

“Because when Castiel was brought back after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, he had himself a bit of an upgrade, if you will.”

“So you’re too juiced to be hit on?” Dean grinned over at Cas.

“There are only a few beings in existence who would have the power to have placed a Cupid Mark on me without my awareness,” Cas confirmed.

“That narrows things down a bit,” Bobby noted.  “Who’re we looking at?”

“The Archangels,” Cas said.

“Lucifer and Michael are in the Cage, right?” Sam asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed.  “There would be signs should either of them have escaped again.”

“And this really isn’t Lucy or Mikey’s style.”

“So they’re out.  Gabriel’s dead,” Dean said.

Cas continued, “Joshua doesn’t leave the Garden, and doesn’t concern himself with the activities of Heaven, let alone of Earth.”

“And the Scribe has been missing since Dad left,” Balthazar added.  “As are the handful of other archangels of that ilk.”

“Which leaves one remaining archangel in Heaven.”

“Raphael?” Dean guessed.

“Which leaves Raphael,” Balthazar confirmed.

Cas agreed.  “He has the means.”

“And the motive.”

“Why the hell would he want to hook Cas and me up?  He _hates_ us!”  Wait.  Shit.  That came out wrong.  It sounded like he meant him and Cas being paired up was a good thing.  But Dean wasn’t into _dudes_.  He was into women!

“With Cassie being unable to fly very far without his wings being shredded, and his favorite little ape dying when left unattended for very long, it keeps Cassie out of Heaven, with limited mobility, and quite distracted.”

‘Favorite little ape’?!

“And Cas is leading the opposing side against Raphael,” Sam noted, completely skipping over the fact the douche angel called his big brother an ape!

“Exactly.  The problem with this little theory, though, is Raffy completely lacks the imagination to think of such a plan, let alone to pull it off so completely under the radar.  He’d never have been able to resist bragging about it for so long, either.”

“And there would be much easier ways for Raphael to hinder my opposition in heaven than to curse me--us,” Cas corrected with a nod to Dean, “through a Cupid Mark.”

“Well, besides an Archangel, who else could have done it?” Sam asked.

“Dad.”

“‘Dad’?  You mean God?” Sam asked incredulously.

Dean scoffed.  “What, _God_ is playing match-maker?”

“Well, Dad stepping in does seem to be the reigning theory on our little Cassie’s two-time return from the dead in as many years.  Lucy might have brought him back the first time as a ‘fuck-you’ to Raffy and Mikey, but Cassie’s second return, complete with power-upgrade, rather shoots down that theory.”

“Father certainly could have placed the Mark upon me when he brought me back after Stull.  However…”

“It seems unlikely he’d be fucking with us through the Mark,” Dean concluded.  “If he’d brought you back from the dead and put a Cupid Mark on us, why kill us with it months later?”

“Exactly.”

“And there’s no one else?” Bobby asked.

“None that Balthazar or I could think of.”

“If we hadn’t seen the scorched wing marks and the body to confirm he really was dead,” Dean mused out loud.  “I’d say this has Gabriel written all over it.  It’s the sort of Trickster-shit he’d pull.”

Dean paused.  Gabriel ala the Trickster had faked his death on them more than once.  How sure were they he hadn’t faked it again?

Apparently, all of them were currently having the same thought, as both angels and his brother--hell, even Bobby--were giving each other some significant looks.

“Well then, Mr. Singer,” Balthazar drawled.  “How well stocked is your pantry?”

********************************

Bobby’s pantry was _very_ well stocked, based on the happy little exclamations Balthazar made as he and Cas fussed about gathering ingredients for summoning an archangel.  Sam watched the process all geeky-fascinated and Bobby grumbled over the angels pawing through his stuff, but Dean used their distraction to take a few minutes for himself.  

He and Cas… Cupid Marked.  In permanent marker, so to speak, as even Cas--now one of the most powerful angels up in Heaven--couldn’t remove it.  Not that he wanted those fat diaper-babies to be messing around with his love life in any way, but he couldn’t believe _someone_ had paired him up with an angel.  A _dude_ angel.  A _Cas_ angel.

Dean didn’t notice that Sam had sidled up next to him until his younger brother spoke up.

“How’re you doing?” Sam asked softly.

“Fine,” Dean answered with a shrug.  “My supernatural death flu cleared up completely when Cas showed up.”

“I mean,” Sam cleared his throat.  “Besides that…”

Besides the supernatural death flu…? What…? Oh.

“Oh, God, are you going to talk about _feelings_?” Dean groaned.

Sam pressed on.  “We’ve been so focused on the ‘sickness’ part of all of this, we haven’t talked about the ‘Cupid Mark’ part.”

“And we’re not going to,” Dean shot down.

“Dean--”

“No.  We’re _not_ having this conversation.”

“Dean, it’s okay if...”

“If what?” Dean demanded.

“If you and Cas--”

“There is no me and Cas.  It’s just some asshole messing with us.  Maybe it’s Gabriel.  Maybe it’s someone else on Raphael’s orders.  We’re going to figure out who’s doing it, fix it, and forget this whole stupid mess ever happened.”

Sam tried a couple more times to get Dean to talk about his _feelings_ , particularly his _feelings about Cas_ , but Dean ignored him.  Dean didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do love, particularly not in connection to nerdy angels who were dudes and happened to be his best friend.

Besides, with the two angels of the Lord on the case, it didn’t take long for the ingredients to be gathered and the sigils drawn to summon a possibly-dead archangel.  Cas intoned the spell, and when his gravelly voice faded away, nobody dared to speak, all their eyes focused on the center of the circle.

How long was it supposed to take?  How long before they gave up?

“Hello, boys,” a voice spoke up from behind them.

Dean jumped, falling over as he twisted around.

A familiar face grinned at him.  “Did you miss me?”

 _Sonofabitch_.  It _was_ Gabriel.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Dean rakes the fallen leaves into small piles around the yard.  He’s never had to rake leaves before, and he knows most people complain about doing such a mundane chore—Ben certainly does—but for Dean, he thrills in how _normal_ it is.  He can pretend he’s normal as well.

That’s all he’s been doing right now.  Pretending he’s normal.  Pretending he’s a good boyfriend for Lisa.  Pretending he’s a good father for Ben.  Pretending his whole world hadn’t ended when Sammy jumped into the pit with Lucifer and Michael.

But Sam had wanted Dean to move on and live a normal life.  Dean had sworn he would try, so here he is.  Trying.  Pretending.

Sometimes it’s not too bad.  Dean adores Ben—taking him to practice, helping him with his homework-- it’s like having another little Sammy around.   And Lisa is amazing to him, putting up with Dean’s drinking, his nightmares, his inability to be open and completely honest with her.  She knows about his Hunting, but he can’t tell her about his past year, about the Apocalypse, about Sam, or about Cas.

Living like this, it’s like there’s a rock in his boot.  Sure he can walk, but every step is slightly off-balance. He can be around the normal people, but he doesn’t quite fit in with them.  He doesn’t _belong_ in this suburban picket-fence life _._  He didn’t realize how far from normal he was until he tried to live among it.  Hell, he can almost relate to how Cas must have felt, trying—but failing—to fit in with humanity all last year.

God, he hasn’t seen Cas since Stull.  He doesn’t know how Cas is doing up in Heaven.  If he’s managed to get his dick brothers in line or not.  Dean’ll probably never know.  Just one more connection he’s severed as he gave up the Hunting life.  He hasn’t looked for any strange deaths, he’s stopped talking to Bobby, and Cas—

Cas is gone.  Like he’d never been a part of Dean’s life.  Even Cas’ fucking hand print had been washed away with the angel’s last healing.

Dean pauses from raking, wipes the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, and sees on the far side of the yard, as if summoned by his thoughts of him, Cas.

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It is…complicated.”

His stomach clenches.  Somehow, Dean knew it has to be.  He’s not sure what he was hoping for.  It’s not like Cas would show up because he misses Dean.

Dean has been raking too long; he’s worn out and his knees are weak, like they might give out on him.

“Well, why don’t we sit down…” Dean points over at the couple of Adirondack chairs by the firepit.  “Well, you typically just stand hovering beside me, so I’ll sit down, and you can either sit or stand.  Whatever you want, buddy.”

A glance back proves Cas hasn’t moved.  “Cas, I’m not going to shout across the yard to talk with you.  Get your feathery ass over here.”

This time Cas follows.

“Dean?”  Lisa stands in the door.

Dean freezes half-way over to the chair, his hands feeling clammy and his chest tight.  He feels like he’s been caught cheating.  Not in a relationship way--Cas is a _dude!_  And they’re just friends!--but in the way his past life has snuck into his current life when Dean hadn’t wanted the two to cross paths.

“Are you done raking?” Lisa asks him, though it’s obvious he hasn’t.  She notices Cas but hasn’t asked about him.

He winces.  “Not yet.  I was about to take a break for a few.”  He waves over at Cas.  “A... friend... of mine stopped by.”

“Well, if he’s into baseball…” She trails off, and gives Dean a flat look because he’s clearly a moron and not understanding anything.  “It’s about time to head out for Ben’s big game.  You know, the first game where he’s going to be a starter and not relief.”

Shit.  Shit!  He’s forgotten about the game.  

It’s been months-- _months_ \--since Stull, since his brother jumped into Hell and Cas poofed back up to Heaven.  This is supposed to be his life now.  Ben.  And Lisa.  But Cas shows up and everything else goes out of his mind.  Fucking hell.

“Right.  The game…”

Lisa’s standing there waiting for him, and Cas… Cas looks down at his feet, not doing his usual intense stare thing and _why_ isn’t he doing his usual intense stare?

“I’ll be right with you, Lisa.”

Cas looks up, his eyes going wide.

“Alright,” Lisa agrees.  “I’ll go herd Ben to the car and load up his stuff.  You’ve got a few minutes.”

Once she was back inside, Dean leans against the porch.  Cas stands where he stopped when Lisa came out, several yards away.  Dean motions for Cas to come join him, but the angel either doesn’t understand the gesture or ignores it.  Dean frowns and asks, “So what’s going on?”

Cas shakes his head.  “It’s not something you would comprehend right now.  I suppose you could say, in a way, I _needed_ to see you...”

Dean’s been out in the sun too long.  His face feels warm and his mouth’s gone dry.  He walks the few steps over to where he’d left his beer.  He takes a sip to wet his mouth before he can look over at Cas again.

The angel continues, “But you should go with Lisa now.”

The beer falls heavy in his stomach.  Dean takes another, larger, swig and downs the rest of the bottle.

“This is the life you want, isn’t it?” Cas asks, his voice soft, almost hard to hear with the distance between them.  “Lisa and Ben.  A real home.  No more hunting.  No more monsters, or demons, or--”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence with ‘angels’, you son of a bitch,” Dean growls.  “Because after everything we’ve been through together, you know damn well if you need something I’m here for you.”

Cas shakes his head.  “I’m not here because I need your help right now.”

Right.  Dean crosses his arms.  “So everything’s just hunky-dory up in Heaven then?  All your dick brothers falling in line behind you?” he demands.

The angel looks a bit shifty.  “Not exactly,” he admits.  “But I have the matter in hand, and--”

“Dean?” Lisa calls out.  “It’s time to go or we’ll be late.”

Shit!

“Dean, you should go--”

“Lisa, you two should head out now.  I’ll catch up with you soon.”  It wouldn’t be fair to make them late, waiting for him, but he needs a little more time--

Lisa comes out to the yard, her brows furrowed and her lips a thin line.  She’s looking at him like she knows if he doesn’t go with them now, he’s not going to be with them again.  He’s not entirely sure if that’s a wrong assumption or not.

Why the hell does it feel like he’s making a huge life-altering decision?  It’s a friggin ball game and Cas has said he doesn’t need Dean for anything right now.

“It’s alright, Dean, you can go…”

Normally Cas would already have vanished.  If he didn’t need anything, if he _really_ thought Dean should be off to some stupid ball game, then he wouldn’t be waiting around.  He’d poof off.

Dean doesn’t want Cas to fly off.  If he lets Cas disappear now, he’s not going to see him again!  He knows it.  Yeah, Dean has stopped Hunting, yeah, he’s tried to put aside all reminders of his past, but Cas is _family_ and he doesn’t want to lose him forever.  He’s lost enough of the people he’s cared about.

He’s walking over to Cas before he realizes it.

“Dean…?” Lisa calls to him.

“Just a minute…” he tells her, but he knows that _she_ knows it’s a lie.  He doesn’t care.

Cas takes a step back as Dean reaches him.  “Dean, you don’t need--”

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growls.  He doesn’t need Cas telling him what he needs.  He _knows_ what he needs! He needs Cas not to disappear on him when he’s trying to talk with him.

Cas’ eyes are wide and he looks nervous.  He looks like he’s about to fly off.  As if it would do anything to stop the angel from vanishing, Dean reaches out to Cas.  “What I _need_ is you to--”

He grabs onto Cas’ shoulder.

Dean remembers.

“Fuck!” Dean curses.

He’s picked Cas yet again.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Fucking Hell!  I _knew_ it was you,” Dean growled as he whirled around to confront the archangel.  “What the hell do you want?”

“Uh, _you_ were the one who called _me_ here.” Gabriel crossed his arms as if he was annoyed, but the smug little grin made it clear he was dicking them around.

“I meant about the damn Cupid mark shit.  That’s all _your_ doing, isn’t it?”

Gabriel considered.  “Not quite.”

“Making Dean deathly ill unless Cas is around?  Ripping out Cas’ wings, which only heals when Dean touches him?” Sam demanded.  “That has you all over it, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, okay, _that_ part is me.”

“So this is fun for you?” Dean demanded.

“One--yes, it is fun,” Gabriel admitted readily.  “And two--this is _so_ not about you, Puffer Fish, at least not in the way you think it is.”

“Okay, one, remove this goddamn mark before I gut you,” Dean retorted with the same inflection Gabriel had used.  “two--”

“No can do, Deano,” Gabriel interrupted.

Dean glowered.  “Can’t, or _won’t_?”

“I _can’t_ remove it because I wasn’t the one who put it on you.”

“Then who did?”

“Dad did.”

“Wait.  Wait, wait, wait.  You’re saying _God_ put the Cupid Mark on me and Cas?!”

“The one and only,” Gabriel confirmed.  “Right after that little dealio in Stull.  Dad added it on little bro when he brought him back from non-existence, and added it onto your heart at the same time.  He was practically giddy as a fangirl when he did it, you should have seen him--”

“Okay, okay,” Sam interrupted, his eyes closed and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Let me get this straight--”

“At least one of you is.”  Gabriel smirked.

Dean lashed out with his fist, but was stopped before it connected with Gabriel’s face.  Cas’ grip on his arm was immovable.  The one time he’d punched an angel he’d nearly broken his hand, but at the moment breaking his fist would have been worth it if he could wipe that goddamn smirk off that asshole.

“Fuck you,” Dean bit out, yanking his arm out of Cas’ hold.  It pissed him off even further knowing he only succeeded because Cas let him go.

“No, no, see, that would be--”

A loud bang made everyone jump.  Castiel had slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes flint as he glared at his brother.  “Why are you helping Raphael?” Cas demanded.

“Help Raphael?  Oh Dad, no!  I can’t stand the guy.  He’s got _no_ sense of humor.”

Bobby snorted.  “So you’re messin’ around with that Cupid Mark on Dean and Cas, keeping Cas out of heaven and it’s somehow _not_ for Raphael’s sake?”

“I haven’t spoken to that prick since before I left heaven,” Gabriel denied.

Sam was glaring daggers at the archangel.  “So this isn’t some new plan of yours to jump start the Apocalypse?”

“Uh, _hellooo_ , I _didn’t_ want the Apocalypse.  If you remember, I kind of got myself _killed_ helping you try to stop it.”

“You look awfully spritely for a guy who got himself killed,” Bobby said dryly.

“So do you,”  Gabriel shot back.  “But that’s the point.  Dad rewarded all of us for stopping the Apocalypse and saving the world.  Except for you, Balthazar.  No offense, but you weren’t part of Team Free Will like the rest of us.”  He waved his hand to indicate Dean, Sam, Cas, and Bobby.

Gabriel thought he was one of them?   “Like _hell_ you were!” Dean exclaimed.

The archangel glared at Dean.  “I most certainly was.  I _saved_ your lives, fought my own _brother_ , and ultimately gave _my life_ for the cause.  I might not have been with you all for the final showdown at Stull in body, but I was there in spirit.”  He pondered for a moment.  “Kind of literally?  Lucifer was carrying around my sword.  The jerk.  Not that I had any awareness of what was going on.  Being dead.”

“So whatever brought us back, brought _you_ back as well?” Sam asked.  “Why?”

“I _told_ you.  Dad brought us all back.  I mean, I don’t think Dad was going to bring us back at first, not until a certain someone cried out over how unfair it was that he stopped the end of the world and didn’t get a damn cookie afterwards.  Since you _had_ done a pretty big service to the world, Dad decided to give you, and the rest of us, a reward.”

“Okay, this cursed Cupid Mark is supposed to be a _reward_?” Dean asked incredulously.

“More or less.  You see, Dean, you were the hardest one to shop for.  The rest of us with the whole ‘being dead and or in Hell’ thing, it was pretty easy to figure out how to reward us.  We brought Robert Singer back to life, with possession of his soul--yeah, did any of you really think that little weasel Crowley was going to give _that_ back?  Sam is free from the Cage, no worse for wear from his time in Hell, in possession of _his_ soul--you’re welcome for saving you from _that_ potential future, by the way.  Castiel was brought back to life, and _this_ time with a nifty little power upgrade, which should allow him use of some his angelic abilities if he gets cut off from Heaven again, which knowing him, will happen even if Raphael doesn’t win.  And of course, yours truly, brought back to help with all of this rewarding business.”

Gabriel looked pointedly at Dean.  “Which left _you_.  You are by far the most aggravatingly selfish selfless human I have ever met.  All of your wishes were for others; you just wanted your precious loved ones to be safe and sound, and you didn’t care a whit about what happened to _you_ as long as they were alright.”

Gabriel’s glare turned into a predatory grin.  “But deep down, there was _one_ wish.”

“A night with 1954 Miss October from Busty Asian Beauties?” Dean suggested.

“Good one, but no.  Your _real_ deepest wish.”

Dean swallowed and his clammy hands balled into fists.  “I didn’t wish for a damn Cupid Mark connecting me with a _dude_.”

“Well, not exactly,” Gabriel conceded with a shrug.  “But you did wish to be driving around in that beat up car of yours, your brother sitting beside you in the passenger seat, and your angel sitting behind you in the back seat, as the three of you ‘save people, hunt things, the family business’.”

“He’s not _my_ angel!” Dean protested, ignoring the sharp look Sam gave him or the curious one from Cas.  It was bad enough his secret desire was being paraded out in front of everyone without Gabriel announcing _that_ little detail, certainly not after his _completely_ untrue assertions earlier.

Because deep down, Dean _did_ think of Cas as _his_ angel.

“So Dad and I get it all set up so you can have your one little wish,” Gabriel continued without acknowledging Dean’s protestation.  “Once your brother was up outta Hell, of course he’d be right next to you, joined at the hip as you two are.  The Cupid Mark would help make that little bond between you and my little brother official, making it easier for him to stick by you, as well.  It would be the three of you: on the road together, just as you wished.

“But then you go and push your brother off to go ‘have a normal life’ and ‘go back to school’, and you _let_ Castiel go back up to Heaven without a word of protest.  My little brother got all distracted with the shitstorm up in Heaven, and decided he must take care of it on his own because you ‘had done enough’ and ‘deserved a normal life’ without further angelic interference.  With him busy up in heaven, _you_ got all butthurt because he was ignoring you...”

Dean sputtered, but Gabriel talked over his protestations.

“You wouldn’t have called him, even to check on how he’s been, if I hadn’t made you sick.” Gabriel glared over at Dean, looking honest-to-god affronted that Dean had the gall to not know about this supposed reward.  “When it finally looked like things were starting, at a snail’s pace, to work out, you two knuckleheads have some huge fight and go back to ignoring each other for a few months.  Of course, you found out about the Marks, which would have been _fine_ if my little brother didn’t decide he needed to be everywhere _else_ in the world looking to fix it rather than stick around next to you because you got all emotionally constipated gay panic--”

Dean clenched his hand into a fist again.  Cas stepped in between them, but Dean would go through the angel to get at Gabriel if that dickbag didn’t shut up already.

“So you used the Cupid Mark to make Dean and Cas sick,” Sam summed up as an interruption.

Gabriel gave Sam his best douche-bag angel look.  “ _Someone_ had to take action to get these two lovebirds back together.”

“So, out of the goodness of your heart, you decided to meddle,” Dean bit out.  “And it has nothing to do with keeping Cas out of Heaven while Raphael restarts the Apocalypse.”

Gabriel grimaced.  “Yeah, I admit, I didn’t expect Raffy to double-down on that whole mess.”  He let out a huge, put-upon sigh.  “He has _no_ imagination whatsoever.  He has no clue what to do with Heaven so he’s going back to whatever _Michael_ wanted _._ ”

“And did you never think maybe instead of messing around with _us_ you might make yourself useful and put a stop to whatever shit Raphael is doing up there?”

“I _left_ Heaven for a reason, Deano.  I have no interest in getting sucked back into that mess.”

“Or any concern Raphael is going to smite Cas in revenge.”

Looking over at Cas, Gabriel waved a hand in Dean’s direction and dismissed, “Well, at least he’s _pretty_.”

Hell yeah, he was pretty--Hey, wait a minute--

“If Raphael was going to smite Cas, he’d have already done it,” Sam surmised.  “So why can’t Raphael--”

“Won’t,” Gabriel interrupted.  “Not can’t.”

“Alright, so he _can_ smite Cas.  So why isn’t he?” Dean asked.

“Because Cas has already been brought back to life twice in as many years,” Sam noted.

“At least one of them got brains to go with his good looks.”

“Hey!” Dean fumed.

Gabriel smirked.

“He’s afraid to kill Cassie because if Castiel gets brought back a _third_ time, it’ll prove without a doubt Dad favors him.  And that will crumple most of Raphael’s support,” Balthazar explained.

“Exactly.  Unfortunately Raffy has gotten busier up in heaven than I would have expected and these two emotionally unaware lumps slower on the uptake than I anticipated.  I know, I know, I should know better than to underestimate the stubbornness of a Winchester and my little brothers.  But with the truly nasty shitstorm Raffy is about to unleash up topside, we don’t have any more time to muck about with waiting for these two emotionally constipated ignorants to get their heads out of their own asses and into each others’.”

Dean choked.

“So I’m going to have to speed the whole realization process along,” announced Gabriel.

Cold washed down Dean’s back.  He didn’t like the sound of that.  “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to look deep inside and see where your heart really lies.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and he, Dean, and Cas were transported out of Bobby’s home.

************************************

“What the hell?  Where the fuck are we?!”

Dean looked wildly around them.  They weren’t in much of _any_ place; an infinity of grey surrounded them.

“You’re going to choose, Dean,” Gabriel informed him, completely ignoring Dean’s reasonable questions about what the fuck was going on.  “Between all the people you’ve ever known and all the people you could come to know, you’re going to pick someone.”

“ _That_ shouldn’t take too long,” Dean sneered.

“We’ve got all the time in the world in this pocket dimension.  And to make it fair, because I know you’ll try any excuse to explain away your inevitable choosing of Castiel, I’ll put a damper on that Cupid Mark between you and my little brother. If you choose someone else, _anyone_ else, you’d prefer to be _romantically_ involved with, I’ll keep that damper on.  You’ll never have any angelic interference with your love life again.”

“So I just gotta pick someone, huh?”

“You just need to pick someone,” Gabriel confirmed.  

That didn’t sound so hard.  Dean could think of a few _dozen_ women he’d prefer to be ‘romantically’ involved with than Cas.  Not that he disliked Cas!  But Cas was a _dude,_ and an angel, and Dean didn’t feel _romantic_ towards him.  Cas was _family_.  Sure, his feelings with Cas were different than his feelings for Sam, but that didn’t mean Dean was thinking about _boning_ Cas or anything.  Okay, maybe he’d had one or two dreams, but--

Gabriel grinned as he snapped his fingers.

Blackness surrounded Dean.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Dean doesn’t know where he is--well, he’s aware that he’s in a huge ballroom filled with people in fancy dresses and tuxes, he can see that, but he doesn’t know where the ballroom is, why he’s there, or how he got there in the first place.

The place feels familiar, like he’s been here before, but he’s pretty sure he’d remember a place this swanky.  And he certainly doesn’t usually run around in a goddamn monkey suit.  He can feel a couple knives and tools on him, so he’s not completely defenseless, but he’d feel a lot more comfortable in his normal clothes and not a tux.

He looks around the crowded room and grins. The crowd is mostly made up of attractive young women.  There’s a few guys here and there, but one can’t swing a dead demon around without hitting some sexy babe.  Dean might not know where he is, but it feels like heaven.

Shit, maybe it _is_ Heaven.

It isn’t anything like the ‘life’s greatest hits’ he and Sam experienced before in Heaven, but maybe Heaven was doing something new.  If so, it’s a change Dean could get behind.

With such a buffet of beauties before him, and so little in the way of competition, Dean’s not sure where to start.  He starts towards the closest babe and and stops short.  

It’s Cassie.

Oh, he’d recognize those eyes and plump lips anywhere.

His eyes go wide as he takes in the people around Cassie.  There’s that pretty waitress from the Oktoberfest.  Over there is Jenny, a girl he had a crush on back in 9th grade.  Beside her is Harrison Ford dressed in his familiar leather coat and fedora hat over his tux.

Every person in this room is familiar.  Some of them, he doesn’t know _how_ he knows them, but there’s a solid feeling in his chest he _knows_ them.  He knows _everyone_ here.

Dean swallows, his throat thick.  What the fuck is going on?

Sam.  Where’s Sam?

Dean can’t see his brother anywhere in the crowd.  He doesn’t see his father, or mother, or Bobby anywhere either.  He’s not sure if that changes any of his ‘is this Heaven or not’ question.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his phone.  Sam picks up on the second ring.

“Sam.  I’m in this huge ballroom,  I’ve got no friggin idea how I got here, and it’s like a ‘here’s your life’ convention in here.  Where are you?” Dean demands.

“I’m outside a huge mansion in a garden.” Sam’s voice is calm and unconcerned.

Some of Dean’s anxiety eases up.  If Sam’s okay, Dean’s okay.  He looks around the perimeter of the room and sees a set of glass doors leading out onto a balcony.  It looks like the gardens are beyond that.

“Yeah, okay, I think I see where you are.  Wait there, I’ll be right out.”

Sure.  No problem.  He just needs to make his way through this weird-ass ballroom filled with everyone he’s ever friggin known first.

Dean’s about halfway across the room before he sees Lisa.  She’s looking at him, on the balls of her feet as if she’s about to walk over towards him.  Fuck.  He’d burst into her life, scaring her shitless, right before he left for Stull.  Sammy had wanted him to go to her--live a normal life--after the Apocalypse ended, but when Sam and the rest came back to life, Dean hadn’t even called her to let her know he was still alive.  She’s better off without him in her life, anyway.

Dean changes his path so he’s taking a longer way towards the windows, but one that doesn’t take him past Lisa.  He’s closing in on the windows when he sees Cas ducking past a large column.

“Cas?!” Dean calls out.

The angel freezes.

Dean storms over to his friend.  “Where are we?  What’s going on?”

“You...you don’t know?” Cas asks, his eyes wide.  “How much do you remember?”

“I don’t remember how I got here or what’s going on, other than I’m in some sort of weird ‘this is your wonderful life’ montage of everyone I’ve ever known.”  Dean narrows his eyes.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“I… I shouldn’t be here, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be here either.  It’s kind of creepy.  Sam’s outside in the garden, so let’s hurry up and get out of here already.”

“No, Dean, I don’t understand why I’m here.  I shouldn’t be here!” Cas exclaims.  He’s not panicking, but he’s clearly alarmed about the situation, and his unease is setting off all kinds of warning bells for Dean.

“Exactly, so let’s get out of here,” Dean insists as he reaches out to grab Cas by the shoulder.

Startled, the angel pulls away.  “No!”

Okay, seriously, what the fuck is going on?  “No?”

“That is…” Cas takes a moment to collect himself.  “You’re right.  We should leave.  But isn’t there anyone one else here you need to take with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Cas looks out at the rest of the gathering, which brings Dean’s gaze out there too.  He’s not seeing what Cas thinks he should be seeing.  “It’s just… a bunch of people I’ve known…”

“Yes,” Cas agrees.  “Surely one of them… You want to bring one of them with you out to meet Sam, right?”

Dean shakes his head.

“Cassie, maybe?”  Cas suggests.  “Or Lisa?  You went to her before Stull.  You were going to go back to her afterwards.  Sam made you promise to give a normal life with her a try.  Isn’t that what you want?  A normal life?  With Lisa, and Ben.  A family of your own?”

Dean snorts derisively.  “Yeah, maybe there’s a part of me wants a family, but it’s not going to happen.  I’m a Hunter.  I _can’t_ do ‘normal’.”

“But you _could_.  The Apocalypse is over.  Sam could go back to school and you could settle down.  With Lisa and Ben.  Or if not them, someone else.”  Cas searches the crowd again.  “There must be someone here you would rather be with.”

Cas is kind of freaking Dean out right now, acting all weird.  This whole thing is really fucking weird. “What’s going on, Cas?”

Cas turns back to him and stares intensely.  “I want you to be happy, Dean.”

“I’m ecstatic,” Dean answers in a flat voice.  He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Cas, but he wants to find Sam and get his angel out of this creepy ass place.  He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder to lead him towards the windows.

Dean remembers.

This ballroom is filled with everyone Dean has ever been or will ever be attracted to--everyone he has ever, _will_ ever, or _could_ ever romantically love.

And out of all those people, Dean has picked Cas.

 _Again_.


	2. “Just ‘Cause I Picked Him Don’t Mean I’m Gay”

“Sonofabitch,” Dean cursed as the vision faded.  He still had his arm on Cas’ shoulder, Gabriel a few feet away.  They again stood in the formless, featureless grey space of Gabriel’s pocket dimension.

“Cas, that’s really been you.  In the dreams.  Hasn’t it?”  Dean toned his voice up slightly to make the last part technically a question, but it wasn’t.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed.

Fuck.

He thought that had been the case.  A bunch of the dreams he could remember had started as actual memories, but the way Cas had been talking in those dreams, it was as if he’d known that.  

“Ok, so then if Cas has been running around in my dreams while I’ve been choosing him, how come I don’t remember being in any of his?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened in a frown.  “Are you kidding me?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m joking?” Dean snarled back.

“These lessons are for _you,_ Dean.  Castiel’s already picked you in every way that matters, out in the real world.”

“What do you mean?” Dean demanded.

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer but Cas interrupted.

“Don’t.  Please.”

The archangel frowned but didn’t say anything.

Dean shook his head.  Whatever.  Cas didn’t want to be with Dean like… It wasn’t the same...

Gabriel looked at Dean with his damn eyebrow arched and a ‘who the hell do you think you’re fooling?’ expression.  “I’m not making you pick him, Dean.  That’s been your subconscious all the way.”

“I got it,” Dean gritted out.  Fuck, he couldn’t remember how many of these things he’d been through, but he had the feeling it’d been _a lot_.

“Yup.  You’ve been through thousands upon thousands of these scenarios, Dean.  Again and again, the result is nearly the same.”

A small hope fluttering in Dean’s chest.  “Nearly?” he demanded.

“Surely you know who the exception is?  No?  I thought it would’ve been obvious to you, what with the ‘I’d sell my soul to Hell for you’ codependency of yours.”

“Sam.”

“That’s right, Dean-o.  The only time you pick anyone else is if that little brother of yours is involved.  Sam Winchester comes first for you.  Always has, always will.  It’s hard-coded into the very fabric of your being, Dean.  It’s practically in your DNA.  But take little Sammy out of the equation, get down into what you want for _yourself_ , peel back your mountains of repression and self-esteem issues to get a look into that selfish little heart of yours, and you pick Castiel.  Every.  Single.  Time.”

Dean shook his head.  “Look, Cas and me… We’ve gone through _a lot_ together.  Death.  Hell.  The friggin end-of-the-world.  You don’t go through something like that and not…”  Dean looked over at Cas, entreating with his eyes for the angel to back him up on this.  Cas looked away; Dean was on his own.  Fine.  He could do this.  “Yeah, okay, we’re close.  He’s _family_.  He’s like a _brother_ to me.”

Gabriel tsked.  “That is some serious denial you’ve got going on there, Dean.  Let’s see about...”

He raised his hand up and snapped.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

The Impala’s windows are already pretty fogged up when he pulls her onto his lap.  Fuck.  Dean’s wanted her since she strolled into that abandoned barn like she owned the place, literally crackling with all the celestial power contained in her petite human form.  And later when she threw him against the wall in the Green Room?  Dean had just about come on the spot.

She was never quite the emotionless dick that the other angels were; she cared.  About humanity.  About Dean.  She may have Fallen, but Dean had spent all last year _falling_ for her.

He shouldn’t want this-- he shouldn’t be doing this.  They have the fucking Apocalypse looming over their heads.  Cas came back from the dead and Jemma _is_ dead.  And, fuck, maybe that’s why.  Dean has already lost Cas once, and now she isn’t sharing the body with Jemma anymore.

It’s only Cas, and this is Cas’ body now.

Cas pulls back slightly, allowing them both to catch their breaths, but whatever breath Dean tries to catch is lost as he loses himself in her gorgeous blue eyes.

“Are you sure, Dean?” she asks in her husky tone, the one that brings more heat pulling down to his groin.

Dean smiles, letting his fingers trail up her arms.  “Perfectly.”

His angel smiles in return, her face glowing.

The Apocalypse is hanging over them, and Sam is gone--Dean can’t be around him right now after Sam’s betrayal with Ruby--and with all of that shit going on, Dean needs this.  Cas had given up everything for him--even her life!--and Dean isn’t going to fight his feelings for her anymore.  He loves her, he wants her, and for some goddamn reason Dean would never understand, Cas wants and loves him back.

Dean runs his hands onto Cas’ shoulders.

He remembers.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“ _Sonofabitch!_ ” Dean cursed, as he shoved the fake Cas off him.  The female Cas and the car both vanished, the loss of which sent Dean crashing down onto the ‘ground’ of Gabriel’s in-between space. Cas was right in front of him, and Gabriel a few feet away.

Fuck!  Dean could still recall those memories of the past year, as if Cas had been in a female vessel and not Jimmy.  He could still recall those _feelings_ \--his feelings for Cas.  It had been so clear in that dream-world.  

But Cas wasn’t a chick.  He was a dude, and Dean wasn’t gay.  So maybe Dean might have fallen in love with Cas if Cas had been a chick, but he wasn’t, so that was that.

“Do you even _listen_ to yourself?” Gabriel groaned.

“Get out of my head!” Dean snapped.

“I don’t know how to make it any clearer to you.  Oh wait, yes I do…” Gabriel went to snap his hand.

“Gabriel, please,” Cas called over to him.  “I… I _can’t…_  Please don’t make me...” Cas trailed off.

There was some sort of nonverbal exchange going on between the angels.  But Cas’ anxious puppy-dog eyes must have touched Gabriel somehow, because the archangel threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh, all right.  We’ll do this another way.”  Gabriel brought his hand out and held out two fingers a breath away from Dean’s forehead.  “Let’s strip away your repression and denial and get a nice long look at what you really feel deep down, Dean...  Let’s take a look at your _lust_ …”

He pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead and blackness surrounded him.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Dean takes a swig from his beer and eases back into the chair. The woman currently on stage is _hot_.  Dark hair, red lips, big boobs, and hips that are moving with purpose, and that purpose is to entice and arouse.  And right now, Dean is _very_ enticed and aroused.

When her performance ends, Dean claps along with the rest of the audience.  She’s followed by a couple more performers, each more beautiful than the last.  The first has a more athletic routine, showing her strength as well as her skin.  The second has a more gentle, sensuous dance.  The third is just plain raunchy.

Who is going to be next?  Who does he _want_ to be next?  That hot, busty Korean chick?  (Busty Asian Beauties 1999 February centerfold.)  The dude with shoulder-length hair and cowboy boots? (Dr. Sexy)  Or that slim redhead with the touches of freckles and piercing eyes?  (Where does Dean know her from?)  So many choices…

A man bursts onto the stage next as if he owns the place--a bed-headed brunet with the bluest eyes Dean has ever seen, and a toned and lithe body that looks like it could get _bendy_.  Guys don't generally interest Dean--he likes boobs, thank you very much!--but the way this guy commands the space around him--and those blue, blue eyes of his that Dean can’t get enough of--he grabs Dean’s attention and won’t let go.

The music takes off, and the man starts to _move_.

Dean’s mouth flies open.  The stripper on stage is as bendy as Dean’s expectations, but more than that, he has a grace to his movements that is unearthly in its elegance.  Dean can’t take his eyes off him.

The music changes, the beat hitting harder.  With a knowing smirk, the man teases off his clothes so he is wearing nothing but a barely-there g-string, and that’s when those sensual movements take on a decidedly sexual turn, his hips gyrating and thrusting forward.  

Dean’s face burns, his stomach turns, and his throat feels thick.  Before he can think about what he’s doing, Dean jumps up onto the stage, placing himself bodily between the man and the horde in the audience.

The man behind him, he can’t-- he _shouldn’t_ \-- It isn’t _right_...

Up on the stage, Dean can’t _see_ the audience, lost in the darkness beyond the glare of the stage lights, but he knows they are there, their hungry eyes devouring.  Shielding the guy with his body isn’t enough.  

He scans around for something, anything, and _there!_  On the table beside where Dean had been sitting, perfect!

Dean bends down and grabs the tan trenchcoat.  With a flick of his wrists, he unfolds the coat, and swings it around the man’s shoulders, covering him up.

There.  Shapeless tan coat.   _That’s_ the way it’s supposed to be.   _That_ is right.  Dean can breathe again.

The music has stopped.  Dean looks around.  Everything is uncomfortably quiet.  Someone out in the darkness of the audience lets out a slight cough.

Dean has no idea how he is going to explain any of this.  He knows his eyes are wide, and he’s shaking, and he can’t stop shaking.  And oh, _fuck,_ what the hell did he just do??

“That… was unexpected,” the man behind him says in a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.

Dean turns, and does a double-take.  The man is now completely dressed in an ill-fitted suit and the oversized trenchcoat while a tie loosely hangs backwards around his neck.  He looks more like some tax accountant than a stripper.  What the hell?  How is this even real?  Dean puts his hand on the man’s shoulder--

Dean remembers.

The stage lighting dims, and the audience area lights up.  The audience who had only moments before been watching the show are gone but for two men.  One the original of the perfect copy standing next to Dean, the other…

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Gabriel,” Dean bit out.

The archangel smirked.  “Well, wasn’t that an _interesting_ turn of events, wouldn’t you say, Dean?”

Dean’s face _burned_ because he had no defense.  Cas clearly had a prominent place on the stage of Dean’s lust, just like he’d been hanging around in the ballroom of everyone Dean had ever been attracted to.  He knew it, Gabriel knew it, and what was worse was it had happened in front of Cas, so _Cas_ knew it.  

Whatever fantasies Dean might have had about Cas in the darkest of nights, the ones he pushed down to never see the light of conscious thought again until the next uncomfortable wet dream, the base desires he refused to acknowledge, were now bared, naked and on display.

Okay, maybe, _maybe_ , there was a part of him that was turned on by Cas.  But he freaked out when Cas had started dancing all sexy-like!  So that proved he wasn’t _really_ gay!

“Yes, yes,” Gabriel dismissed.  “Your mind is completely _littered_ with thoughts of your dear old dad and his ‘what kind of man are you?’ and ‘man up, Dean’ and ‘this is what a _real_ man is like’ and all of that tedious drivel.  Your repression is both well-established and boring as Hell at this point.”

“I’m not gay,” Dean defended.  

“No, you’re not.  The term you’re looking for is _bisexual_.  Or perhaps you might prefer _pansexual_ to further encompass the non-binary and non-human beings you’ve slept with, Dean-o.”

“You might have noticed when he started the R-rated dancing, I wanted nothing more than to cover him up.  Because it was _Cas_.  He’s not _supposed_ to be sexual.  He’s a freaking Angel of the Lord!”

“No.  That’s not it.”  Gabriel shook his head.  “It’s _not_ about him being an angel.  You had no problems sleeping with my brother, Annael--”

“Who?!” Dean choked.  He’d never slept with a dude!

“Anna,” Cas explained.

“Dude, she was a _chick_!  I’ve only slept with chicks!”

Gabriel shook his head a little as he considered.  “Hmmm, we could argue the semantics--”

“Dean, angels don’t have gender.  Our vessels do,” Cas oh-so-helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, well, _her_ vessel was 100% chick!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Okay, gay panic aside, Dean, angels aren’t the problem, because you had no problems sleeping with ‘Anna’.”

“She was human,” Dean defended.

“You knew she was an angel and she was about to get her Grace back.  That didn’t bother you.  You weren’t freaking out that sleeping with her was going to have any impact on her angel-ness.”

Yeah, all right.  And if she hadn’t tried to make it so Sam had never existed, he might have slept with her again if the opportunity came up, angel or not.

“Furthermore, you were surprised that my little brother here hadn’t had any sexual experience--no ‘little cloud-seeding’ action, so you said--and you had no qualms about taking him to a whorehouse and paying a prostitute to take his virginity.”

Okay, maybe not his best idea, but… “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Dean muttered.

“And in a universe where Castiel had taken a _female_ vessel, if instead of Jimmy Novak he was in Jemma Novak--”

Dean tensed at the name, the memories of that dream world still resonating in his mind.

“--You would have happily slept with her.  So it’s not Castiel’s _angelness_ stopping you.  Your _repression_ certainly impacts things, but when we strip it down to your subconscious, that isn’t stopping you either.  But _something_ changed.  Something happened after taking my brother to the brothel that has you scared, and your _guilt_ is overriding your _lust_.”

A flash of a stoned and wasted Cas flashed through Dean’s mind, and he clamped that shit down hard.  There were things that were not okay to think about.  His mother in flames.  Disappointing his father.  Sam dying.  Hell.  That future, that Cas.

“Wait, what was that?” Gabriel asked, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard on Dean.

Dean swallowed.  “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.  That was very much a _something_.”  Gabriel reached toward Dean with two fingers raised.

Dean dodged.  There was no way he was going to let anyone see _that_ memory.

Gabriel appeared right in front of him.  

Dean jumped.  “Sonofabi--”

There was no room to dodge.  Gabriel planted his two fingers on Dean’s forehead.  Dean’s eyes closed as the world around him went black.

*********************************************

Dean’s eyes opened  to find he was handcuffed to a ladder.  His dickish 2014 self stood across the room, cleaning a gun.  Gabriel and Cas stood to his side, looking around the room.

“Oh no,” Dean groaned.

“Well now, _this_ is interesting,” Gabriel noted.  “What is this, 2014?”

“A potential version,” Cas agreed.

“What brought this on, I wonder?”

His future self looked over at Dean, the shotgun aimed at him.  “I should be asking that question, don't you think? In fact, why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here and now?”

“Uh, because there’s an angel and archangel standing beside me?” Dean retorted.

His other self arched an eyebrow.  “Very funny.”  He turned the gun away.

“Hilarious.”  Dean turned to the angels.  “Now uncuff me and let’s get out of this shitstorm.”

“Not yet, Dean-o.  I want to see where this goes.”

“Yeah, I know. I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water—nothing,” his future self said, counting down each test on his fingers.  “But you know what was funny? Was that you had every hidden lock-pick, box cutter, and switchblade that I carry. Now, you want to explain that? Oh, and the, uh, resemblance, while you're at it?”

“As interesting as it is watching you be a dick to yourself, seriously, why were you in a rejected future?”

“Zachariah,” Cas stated.

Future Dean stood up, his eyes widening in his otherwise hardened expression.  “Come again?”

Dean flipped his free hand in Cas’ direction.  “What he said.”

“Zachariah?” Gabriel repeated.  “ _That_ little toad?  Ugh.  I hate him.”

“Where is he? I want to talk to him,” Future Dean demanded.

“You’ll be happy to hear I stabbed the fucker through his miserable lying mouth,” Dean gritted out.  

“I imagine Zachariah sent you to this future in an attempt to persuade you to become Michael’s vessel,” Cas guessed.

“Oh, you don't know,” Future Dean sneered.

“Yahtzee.”

“Ugh.  Zachie had no imagination, no pizzaz.  When _I_ made my attempt to convince you to ‘say yes to the dress’, I sent you to into a T.V. world.  Any old angel can do the Back to the Future crap.  Multiple completely immersive fake worlds?  Now _that_ takes talent.”

“Yes, you were an even bigger dick than Zach was.  Now can we get out of here already?”

Like now, before the rest of his conversation with his future self could occur.  His future self didn’t seem to be having the same conversation Dean and the angels were having now.  No.  He was having the same conversation they’d had _then_.  And Dean knew what little embarrassing factoid was about to get revealed.

“I suppose we can skip ahead a little here…”  Gabriel raised his hand towards Dean’s forehead.

Future Dean crossed his arms and demanded, “Okay. If you're me, then tell me something only I would know.”

Shit.

Gabriel stopped, mid two-finger salute.  “What’s this?!  What wonderful secret do you share with yourself?!”  He bounced over towards Dean’s future self, his hands balled up in front of him as he awaited eagerly for whatever was said next.

“No way.  That’s between me and myself.” And considering he was in a way a _third_ version of himself in this scene, Dean added for good measure, “And myself.”

“Touché. So, what, Zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?”

“Argh!” Gabriel threw up his hands.  “It was your past self that said it, and I replaced your past self with your current self!  Foiled by my own manipulation of your memories!”

“Yeah, too bad,” Dean sneered.

Gabriel stalked back over to Dean as his future self spouted out about the Croatoan virus.  He brought up his hands and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead.

****************************************

They were outside now, in the run down old camp.  This time, Dean wasn’t taking the place of his 2009 self.  He stood beside the two angels, watching as his past self ran into Chuck.  Gabriel found something about the interaction hilarious.  He shook with barely controlled giggles.

Dean also shook, but not from laughter.  He didn’t want to be there anymore and he didn’t want to see what was coming next.

“Dude, there are way too many versions of me running around in this little world right now, from 2009 me, 2014 me, and 2011 me.  Let’s just move along and get out of here,” Dean suggested, his voice unsteady even to his own ears.

The past version of Dean dodged the blows from Risa, and used Chuck as a shield as she railed at him for spending the night in some other chick’s cabin.

Gabriel laughed at the antics of Dean’s past self as Risa stormed off.

Dean clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking.  His breath was coming out in rasps.

“Dean?” Cas asked.

“Please, let’s get out of here already,” Dean pleaded.  “Cas, man, you _know_ I don’t beg, but I’m _begging_ you here.  Please.”

There was a softening of Cas’ stoic expression.  “Gabriel, _must_ we remain here?  If Dean does not want us in this memory, I don’t want to be in this memory either.”

“Sorry, boys, but this memory is clearly important to the matter at hand and we haven’t seen what this has to do with you yet, little brother.”

“Hey, Chuck, is...Cas still here?” Past Dean could be heard saying.

Dean and both angels froze.

“Speak of the devil,” Gabriel joked.

“Yeah,” Chuck chuckled.  “I don't think Cas is going anywhere.”

Chuck pointed out Cas’ likely location, and Past Dean made his way across the camp to the large building in the center.

They were now standing in front of Cas’ cabin.  Dean hadn’t noticed Gabriel shifting them.  His past self stood in the beaded doorway, and Future Cas’ voice could be heard from inside the cabin.

“So, in this way.  We're each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind.”

Dean clutched at Cas’ coat.  “Cas, please!”

“Dean, I--”

But as his past self pushed his way into the cabin, Dean and the two angels likewise appeared inside.  It was exactly like Dean remembered.  The incense, the candles, the Buddhist statue, the chanting music.  Several beautiful women sat in a circle on the floor.  And Future Cas: drunk, stoned, and powerless.  Broken.

Dean immediately tried to push Cas back out of the cabin, but Cas was like a stone wall, completely unmovable.  Dean didn’t know if Cas didn’t want to move or if Gabriel was keeping him in there.

“Now, the key to this total, shared perception,” Future Cas continued.  “It's, um, it's surprisingly physical.”

Gabriel snorted.

“Don’t look at this, Cas,” Dean begged.  “Don’t look at this.”

The Cas on the floor noticed the Dean in the door.

“Oh.  Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader--” Future Cas winked at Past Dean.  “--for a minute.”

“Please, Cas…”

Future Cas turned back to the women.  “Why not go get washed up for the orgy?”

Gabriel almost choked on his laughter.  Cas kept still, his expression frustratingly blank.  Dean wanted to vomit.  If he had anything in his stomach he probably would have already.

The women left while Future Cas smiled up at them.  “You’re all so beautiful,” he cooed.

Cas shook.  Or maybe it was Dean shaking.  He just wanted to get out of there.  For Cas not to see this version of himself.

Future Cas stood up and grunted as he stretched.  Past Dean eyed him, trying to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

 _A shit storm, Past self.  You’re seeing a fucking train wreck.  That_ we _caused._

“What are you, a hippie?” Past Dean asked.

Future Cas rolled his eyes.  “I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me.”

“This is _hysterical_ ,” Gabriel managed to say in between laughing his ass off.

“No, it’s not,” Dean gritted out.

While Future Cas and Past Dean chatted about Zachariah, Dean kept his attention on Cas.  His angel’s eyes were a little wider than usual, his complexion a touch paler, and yeah, he was definitely shaking.

“Cas, don’t look at this, please,” Dean begged him.  “Look at _me_ , not him.”

But Cas didn’t take his eyes off the scene going on between Dean’s past self and Cas’ future self.

“Oh, yeah, it’s friggin’ fascinating,” Dean could hear his past self say, and Dean wanted to smack the hell out of his selfish, stupid past self.

“Now. Why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly me back to my page on the calendar?”

Dean’s stomach flipped.  He couldn’t believe he’d actually fucking said that to Cas.  He’d _known_ something was off, that something was wrong with Cas, but it always had to be about himself.

Gabriel winced.  “Wow, Dean.  I knew you could have your head up your ass, but that--”

“I know!” Dean snapped.

Future Cas chuckled, but it was a mirthless, hollow laugh.  “I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice.”

“What, are you stoned?” Past Dean asked.

“Uh, generally, yeah,” Future Cas agreed.

Past Dean studied Future Cas, and Dean knew what he was going to ask, and it was a question he still wondered about.  Even now, he couldn’t believe how different that Cas was from the one beside him.  He couldn’t understand how bad things must have been for his angel to become… _that_.

Dean’s past self asked, “What happened to you?”

Future Cas shrugged.  “Life.”

But Dean knew the real reason.  Because Cas had been fine--until he’d met Dean.

***********************************************

As Future Cas and Past Dean left the cabin to watch Future Dean return from his mission, the scene faded, leaving Dean standing beside the two angels in the blank space of Gabriel’s staging area.

Cas’ eyes were unfocused, gazing out in the direction the other version of him had walked away.

“Cas,” Dean called out, trying to get his angel’s attention.  “Cas, man.  Look at me.  Look at me!”

Cas snapped back, his eyes finding Dean’s.

“Cas, are you okay?”

“I’m… fine, Dean.  It was… troubling… to see a version of myself so…”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m sorry, man.  I’m so sorry.”

“Well, that explains a few things.  It also makes me want to travel back in time to the second before you kill Zachariah and trap him in an endless loop of torment for the mess he made of things,” Gabriel snarled.

Cas put a steadying hand on Dean’s arm.  “You know, Dean, this future cannot come to pass.”

Dean snorted.  Really?  Cas saw all that and he was trying to comfort _Dean_?  Dean didn’t deserve comforting.

“I send you off to die, Cas.  I send you and my other friends on a goddamn suicide mission.  As nothing more than a distraction while I sneak around back to throw my life away against Lucifer.  I knew it was a suicide mission, and I sent you off on it anyway.”

“Dean, even if it was a suicide mission, if that was what you needed so you could have a chance to beat Lucifer, I would have done it.  I _have_ done it.”

“Cas, you don’t understand!  I threw your life away, like it didn’t even matter--”

“Dean, you cannot take the guilt for something you did not do!  That future will not, _cannot_ , come to pass.”

Dean shook his head.  Cas didn’t get it.  He’d spell it out, so Cas could see just how awful he was and get as far away from Dean before he could ruin the angel completely.  “You know we’d been together in that future?”

Cas pulled his hand back in surprise.  “What?”

Dean pressed on.  “I don’t know what kind of messed up shit we had going, but there was enough evidence that suggested I’d been living in that cabin.  With you.”

How he could have turned into that asshole?  How he could have let Cas down so badly?  How they could have been together and yet hurt each other so deliberately, so completely?

Gabriel closed his eyes and concentrated.  “Well, the stress of the world ending around you was certainly a major contributing factor, but it looks like the biggest influence was Detroit.  When you learned of it, your repressed grief and guilt came out as rage.  You took out your anger on those around you, particularly those closest to you.”  He reopened his eyes and gave Dean a significant look.

“Cas.”  Dean’s throat was thick and his chest tight.

“And my little brother…”

“I let him,” Cas concluded.

Gabriel gave a little head nod to indicate Cas was correct.  “Combine that with your feelings of failure that you were unable to protect Dean and the debilitating grief from the loss of your Grace and the closing of Heaven, and we get ‘happy junkie’ ex-angel over there.  Which feeds into the ‘fearless leader’s’ grief and guilt, which he turns into anger, which he then directs outwards to those closest to him, which then feeds into little bro’s sense of failure and guilt, and you get yourselves that previously seen spiraling disaster of human failure.”

“That’s--”  Dean choked, unable to speak further.

“Dean, let this go,” Cas urged.  “I am not that Castiel, and you are not that Dean.  That future won’t happen.  We won’t let it.”

He wanted Cas to be right.  But he knew how much disaster he brought to anyone close to him.  “Being around _me_ , that’s what does it.  Even if _that_ future doesn’t happen… You were _fine_ before you dragged my ass out of Hell, Cas.  But since meeting me, you lost your faith, lost your family, lost your life-- _twice_.  Because of _me_ , you _Fell_.”

“It is true, in certain circumstances, we would bring out the worst in each other, but I believe we can also bring out the best.  Being with you has made me better.  I don’t regret siding with you against my brothers and stopping the Apocalypse.  I do not regret choosing you, Dean—”

Dean snorted.  “You didn’t want me to pick you,” he pointed out.

Cas’ forehead furrowed.  “I don’t understand.”

“Here.  In Gabriel’s little dream world.  You kept trying to get me to pick someone else.”

Cas’ mouth fell open and his eyes widened.  “That isn’t…!”

“Isn’t what?”  Dean challenged.  “I remember.  You told me to go with Anna, or Lisa.  Hell, the final time in the ballroom, you were _begging_ me to pick _anyone_ else.”

“I want you to be happy.”  Cas slumped.  “You never looked happy when you picked me.  In all the multitudes of times you chose me, Dean, there were only a few times you didn’t curse it.”

Shit.  Holy shit.  Dean’s chest tightened and his throat felt thick.  He’d spent a lifetime in Gabriel’s little universe picking Cas again and again and _cursing_ every single time he did it.  Cas, who knew exactly what was going on, must have been dying inside every time Dean picked him and then complained.  And it had happened _thousands_ and _thousands_ of times.  How must Cas have felt?  Fuck.  Dean was the biggest asshole in the world!

“Cas, it’s not that I’m not happy… I mean, it’s just… You gotta understand.  I don’t _want_ to pick you… This whole thing has been about a _love_ match, and I love _women_ and you... you’re a _dude_ …”

“I’m an angel.”

“ _In_ a dude.”

Cas pouted.  “I don’t understand why that makes such a difference for you.”

God, this would be so much easier if Cas was in a female vessel not a male one!  “Geez.  This is all levels of fucked up.  We’re arguing now like we _want_ this to be real and not some obnoxious game of Gabriel’s.”

“Ex- _cuse_ me?” Gabriel angrily cut in, and, fuck, Dean had forgotten he was still there.  “Don’t take it out on _me_ that you won’t let yourself be happy!”

Not let himself be happy?!  Dean was happy all the time!  “I was _fine_ before you started fucking around with my head!” Dean snapped at the archangel.

“You know what?  I’m done.  I’m tired of trying to do something nice for once and getting nothing but grief for it.  You want to be done with this?  Fine.  I’ll send you home.  The exit’s in the next room.  The door back to Earth will appear when you find what you really want.  You can do with that whatever you want.”

Without letting Dean respond, Gabriel snapped his fingers and Dean’s vision went black.

**********************************

Okay, so where was he now?  He was surrounded by dusty old furniture and other random items piled high around him.  An old attic or junk shop, maybe?  The shape of the space didn’t feel much like a store, though.  The ceiling above him was high in the middle but sloped down along the sides, which added to the ‘attic’ feel, as did the musty smell.  

A lot of the items he could see around him seemed broken, rusty, or otherwise neglected.  Maybe it was an attic, not a store, but if it was an attic, it was for the largest house he’d ever seen.  The place was huge, like a junk version of that scene at the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.  Well, maybe not _that_ huge, but it was certainly a bigger space than any attic Dean had ever seen.

He couldn’t see the last wall because of the sheer size of the place, but there was a large bank of windows along the non-sloped wall that he _could_ see.  The window glass was frosted, not allowing Dean any visibility outside, but it did allow in sufficient light to see around the room.

And somewhere in this mess Dean was supposed to find ‘what he really wanted’?

“What the fuck is Gabriel playing with here?” Dean muttered.  What he wanted was to find Cas and go home already.

“Dean?”  Cas’ voice was as raspy as usual, but it was pitched a bit higher.  

Was Cas injured?

No, the difference in Cas’ voice was caused by something different than an injury, Dean noticed when  Cas came out from behind a pile of junk.  He wasn’t injured.  But he was _female_.

First of all, he had _boobs_.  Like big ones.  Cas’ normally ill-fitting suit was now ill-fitting in the opposite way; his large and perky boobs were threatening to burst through his white button down shirt.  His blue tie was missing, as were the top couple of buttons, giving Dean an eyeful of Cas’ ample cleavage.  He still had his tan trench coat, but it was a more tailored fit.  His suit pants were now a short pencil skirt and nylons.  He was a few inches shorter, though still statuesque, with legs that went on for miles, particularly with the black heels he was wearing.  

His sex-head brown hair was now shoulder-length and artfully tousled like he was the covergirl of a classic porn mag.  His lashes were longer and thicker, but didn’t block how piercing blue his eyes still were.  His pink lips were now plumper, and it looked like this body actually knew what chapstick was.

It was a little weird to see his angel in the body of a porn star, particularly since Dean thought of the angel as male, despite how Cas kept going on about how he was really genderless.  But here was his angel, in a new body, and it was the body of Dean’s dreams.  Literally.

It was a body Dean had fantasized about on many a lonely night in a motel shower.  Not as Cas’ body--no, Cas was a dude in a formerly-Jimmy meat suit.  This was a wank-fodder chimera-body, pieced together from the best features of women Dean had seen or imagined, now costumed in a porn-parody of Cas’ suit and sporting Cas’ eyes.

Dean didn’t know if he was aroused or horrified, but he suddenly realized he’d been standing with his mouth gaping open, and breathing wasn’t optional.  He let out a huge gasp of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Dean?” Cas asked, his--her?--brows furrowed with concern.

“Um, Cas.  Notice anything a little different on you?”

Cas glanced down quickly.  “I suppose you’re referring to this vessel.”

God, sometimes it was like pulling teeth trying to get anything out of Cas.  “Uh, yeah, Cas.  That’s what I’m talking about.  Want to tell me what’s going on and who you’re possessing now?”

“I believe it’s something Gabriel created.  Like Jimmy’s body, there’s no one in this body but me.”

Right.  Fine then.  They’d deal with creepy weird body swap later.  “So any idea where we are or how we get out of this place?  Gabriel said he was letting us out of his pocket dimension.”

Cas looked around intently.  “We are in another of Gabriel’s realms.  He has the place warded so I can’t just fly us away, but there is something… Yes, I can sense an exit, somewhere in this room....”

“‘Somewhere in this room’?”  Dean snorted.  “Yeah, that narrows it down. What are we looking for here?”

“There should be a circle with sigils somewhere.”

“Alright, let’s go find it then.”

While he was supposed to be looking for the portal to get out, Dean kept glancing over at the uncomfortably porn-y body his angel currently resided in.  Dean understood that it was only a vessel for Cas.  His true form was a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent that needed to be housed in someone else’s body so he wouldn’t burn Dean’s eyes out. But that porn body wasn’t Cas.  It would never be Cas.  The form Dean would forever associate with Cas was a nerdy little dude with perpetual bed-hair, chapped lips, and impossibly blue eyes.  That was the Cas he knew, and that was the Cas he wanted.

Dean stumbled over a basket on the floor when he saw the body sprawled out amongst the trash.  He froze.  It was clad in an achingly familiar tan coat, and there was no mistaking whose body it was.

Dean glared over at the creature beside him, wishing he had his gun.  Well, he could improvise.  He grabbed a broken table leg and held it out like a spear.

“Dean--?”

“Who the hell are you?” Dean growled, holding his make-shift weapon ready.   Keeping his eyes focused on the creature, he slowly backed his way towards Cas’ body.

“Dean, I am Castiel.  I’m in a new vessel.”

“Bullshit.” Cas was his nerdy little tax-accountant currently collapsed behind him.

“That’s--”

The creature cut off as it slumped down to the floor.  Behind him, Dean could feel Cas stir.  Dean breathed easier.  He kept the table leg in a ready position, and half an eye on the fallen creature, but he glanced down at Cas.

“Cas, buddy.  You all right?”

Cas sat up stiffly.  “Dean, as I was telling you.  That was me.”

Dean blinked.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that was me in the female body over there.”

“Why did you suddenly switch over to Jimmy here?”

“Because you approached this body.”

That made no sense.  Angels didn’t swap bodies like that.  “What’s going on?”

“When you are near this vessel, I inhabit this body, when you are closer to the other body, I will be in that one.  Therefore, you should go back towards the other vessel.”

“Wait.  You want to be a chick?”

“I have no gender, Dean.”

“But, you want to be _in_ a chick?”

“Dean.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again.  “Look, we still need to find the escape hatch in this place, so why don’t we keep looking and we can deal with the body thing later.”  Like _never_.

They searched for about an hour, Cas swapping back and forth between the two bodies a few times when Dean accidentally got too close to one or the other of them.  It pissed him off when he realized it was the female version following him, and he stopped searching for the sigils until he found and returned Cas to his proper body.

This was ridiculous.  He wanted to find the damn portal out of here already so he and Cas could go home, and now, before they tripped over that damn porn body again!

A faint light glowed from behind a large pile of furniture.  They found their way around the junk pile and saw a pair of circles made up of glowing sigils.

Cas knelt down and examined first one, and then the other.

“So what’s it say?  Which one of these will get us out of here?”

“Both can work,” Cas answered.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.  What’s the difference between them?”

“This one--” Cas pointed to the one on the left, “--involves a ritual I don’t believe you would like to complete to activate the portal, and it would remove the damper Gabriel placed upon our Cupid Marks.  While that one--” Cas pointed to the other one, “--will transport all beings back to the realm of their origin.”

“So I’d go back to earth and you’d poof back up to Heaven?  What’s the catch?” Dean demanded.

“It will return me in my true form back to heaven.  My vessel, however, would return with you to Earth.”

What was Cas’ problem with that?  “Would you somehow have to get Jimmy’s permission to use his body again?”  That would be a bit weird.  Cas had said Jimmy had gone up to heaven when Raphael had blown them up like an overripe tomato in a microwave.  

“That would not be necessary.  As I have said before, I am alone in this vessel.  Jimmy is gone,” Cas said in that slightly off tone he had when he wasn’t telling the whole truth, and he still wasn’t looking Dean in the eye.

So getting permission wasn’t the problem, but something else was.  “Great.  So I’d just have to keep the Jimmy suit cold until you can light your way down to retrieve it?”

Cas shook his head.  “This portal would sever my connection with this vessel.  I would never again be able to possess it.”

“What the fuck!” Dean exploded.  That was a shitty bombshell for Cas to have been holding back.  He couldn’t have said that from the get-go?!

“You mean if we go through this portal you’re fucking trapped up in Heaven?!  So our options are we give in to heavenly meddling and accept the fucking Cupid Marks, or we never get to see each other again?”

“I believe that was the intention with these portals,” Cas stated in his fucking drone angel monotone voice.

Cas might not be pissed about Gabriel’s fucking around with them, but Dean was.  “That fucking asshole!  Where does he get off on demanding we have to get together or we can’t see each other again?!”

In a soft voice, as if he hadn’t wanted Dean to hear, Cas said, “I think Gabriel intended it to be a kindness.”

“Oh yeah, how’d you figure that?!” Dean snapped.

Cas looked away.

“Cas.  Answer me!” Dean growled out, refusing to let Cas avoid answering.

“Because it would be… _painful_ … for me…”

Dean’s next retort died on his lips.  He stared at Cas, but he couldn’t get any reading on what the angel was feeling.  “What do you mean?” he asked at last.

Cas didn’t answer, nor would he look at Dean.

Fuck it.  Dean didn’t know what was going on with Cas, but they could deal with that later.  They needed to get out of this place first.  “Okay, then.  Portal on the right, _not_ an option.  This other portal, the one forcing us to be together.  What does that one involve?”

Cas still wouldn’t look at Dean as he stated in a stiff tone, “It doesn’t mean we have to be together _romantically_.”

“Wait, so if we go through this other portal, we’re not actually going to be forced together?  You won’t be stuck up in Heaven, _and_ we can keep on as we have been?  Even with our Cupid Marks reactivated?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

That’s exactly what Dean wanted!  They could get out of Gabriel’s sick little world and get back to how things had been.

“Great!  Let’s do that.  What do we have to do for the portal to work?”

“You’ll need to approach the female vessel so that I may swap bodies.”

Dean took a few steps towards where they’d last left the other body.  Wait a minute.  “Why do you need to swap bodies?”

“This portal is triggered by a kiss.”

“A kiss?  That’s it?”  He shrugged.  “I mean, don’t tell Sam about it or anything, but let’s kiss and get out of here already.”

Cas averted his gaze.  Dean stopped.  

“It’s not _just_ a kiss, is it?”

“It must be a ‘kiss of desire’.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed.  He _knew_ it couldn’t have been that easy.  When had anything involving Gabriel been easy?  When had anything in Dean’s _life_ been easy?

“As the kiss must be one of desire, you should return to the female vessel so I can switch bodies.”

“Well, it’ll certainly be easier to kiss you in the chick body.”

“Yes.  Gabriel said it was the one you envision the most when you pleasure yourself.”

Dean’s face burned.  “God, that’s disturbing.”

Cas tilted his head, not understanding what Dean was complaining about.  Damn angels and their lack of understanding _boundaries_!  Well, this was all Gabriel’s fault.  No sense getting mad at Cas, who was trying to make it easier for them to get out of Gabriel’s mind-fuck world.

“So what’ll happen when we go through the portal?”

“This vessel will remain here and I’ll be in the female body.”

Dean’s brows shot up.  “Like… permanently?”

“Yes.”

“So… you wanna be a chick?”

Cas hesitated before answering, “I want to be in a vessel you would be happier with.”

Dean sighed.  “Cas, I don’t want you to change who you are for me.  I mean, beyond having to take on a human vessel at all, because your real voice deafens me and your real face would burn out my eyes.  Do you want to be in a dude meat suit or a chick meat suit?”

“I... want you to be happy,” Cas said in a small voice.

“Dammit, Cas!  Tell me what _you_ want!”

“I… have a fondness for this vessel,” Cas said, as if confessing a deep, terrible secret.  “I feel a responsibility for it since it has become mine alone.  I feel… guilt… that Jimmy Novak has died and I still possess his body.  I would regret abandoning it; even if I wasn’t in it anymore, Jimmy cannot return to it from Heaven.”  Cas looked intently at Dean.  “But this is not my body, it’s only a vessel, and I would rather have the vessel you would prefer for me to be in.”

What difference did Dean’s opinion have on what body Cas wanted?  Dean found the porn body creepy as Hell, and much prefered Jimmy’s body.  Cas said he liked it better, too.  So why was Cas so insistent that Dean would prefer the female body, or that Dean had any business making that call _for_ Cas?  “Why?”

Cas gave another of his ‘I don’t understand’ head tilts.

“Why do you care what meat suit I like better?” Dean clarified.

Cas looked away.

“No, dammit, Cas!  You don’t get to ignore the question!”

“I’m not sure how I should answer,” Cas replied stiffly.

This was ridiculous.  “Geez, Cas, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love with me,” Dean joked to lighten the mood.

Cas froze.

Dean blanched.   _That_ was _not_ the reaction he’d expected from his joke.  “Cas…?”

Cas looked down, refusing to look or answer Dean.

“Cas.   _Are_ you in love with me?”

“I—I can’t say for certain.  I don’t really understand feelings.  I’ve never had them before—”

“Cas!” Dean barked.  He had no patience for the angel’s prevarications right now.

“I wasn’t going to tell you, Dean!” Cas hurriedly explained.  “I neither expect nor need you to return my regard.  I understand you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being romantically and sexually intimate with me in this vessel.  I thought… maybe you’d be happier if I were in a female body.  That’s why I asked Gabriel to create it for me.  I thought that maybe… But you don’t seem to like that body any better,” he said, sounding rather pitiful.

“That body’s ridiculous, Cas.  It’s not _you_.”

Cas looked distraught.  “Then… if neither of these bodies interests you, perhaps I can convince Gabriel to fashion another body, one that will be more pleasing to you…”

“Fuck!  Just… just shut up for a minute, Cas.  I need to think…” Dean stepped away from Cas and flopped down onto the floor, his head in his hands.  He felt like he was going to be sick.

Cas hadn’t needed Gabriel’s dream lessons, because he had already picked Dean.  Isn’t that what the archangel had said?  Cas had chosen Dean over Heaven, his family, and his faith.  He’d given up _everything_ for Dean.  Even with a civil war in Heaven, Cas had come down _every single time_ Dean had called him.

It was so obvious now.  Why hadn’t he _realized_ before this?

Cas loved him.  Cas was in love with him, and he was happy to be near Dean, even if Dean didn’t return his feelings.  Cas would go back to the way things had been between them if that was what Dean wanted, because he was somehow happy to be _beside_ Dean.  Hell, while Dean had refused to get his head out of his ass, Cas dealt with Gabriel to create a body that _might_ interest Dean because Dean had made it all-too-clear to Cas that he didn’t want him as he was.

Except Dean’s subconscious kept hitting him, and everyone else, over the head with the fact that he clearly _did_ want Cas.  He’d spent a lifetime in Gabriel’s little dream world proving again and again that after Sam, Cas was the most important person to him.  He’d picked Cas thousands of times.  Out of everyone he could ever love, it was _Cas_ he choose.  If Cas had been in a woman’s body, Dean would have openly expressed his love for his angel long ago.  And maybe he wasn’t so unattracted to Cas’ male form, either, considering how turned on he’d been with the Cas dancing in his Lust.

There was a part of him that clung to the fact that an Angel of the Lord saved him from Hell.  That an Angel of the Lord told him that he was needed, that he was _worthy_ of being _saved_.  And that _he_ made that angel _human_.   _He_ made that angel feel emotions, and experience _life_ for the first time.

And that angel was _Cas_.  A nerdy tax-accountant of heaven, who didn’t understand ‘those references’, who would give that little (adorable) head-tilt whenever he tried to understand what the stupid little mud-monkeys were talking about, and who didn’t understand the concept of ‘personal space’.  (And when had Dean stopped caring when Cas stood too close to him?)  Cas, a badass soldier of the Lord, so full of power and purpose, who could smite a demon with a touch of his hand, and took on five angels in a fight even though he’d lost his faith in Dean, just because Dean asked him to.  Cas had given everything up for Dean: his family, his powers, and his life--more than once!  Cas, who could stare into Dean’s soul with those impossibly blue eyes...

The angel thing didn’t matter.  The dude thing didn’t really matter.  When it came down to it, what mattered was Cas was too _good_ for Dean.  Dean didn’t deserve the love of someone like Cas.  He’d seen the worst of Dean, seen him in Hell at his lowest, and yet he still _loved_ Dean.

And Dean wasn’t _worth_ that…!

“Dean?”

Dean looked up into Cas’ worried eyes as Cas knelt beside him.  Why was Cas worried?  Fuck.  Dean was hyperventilating.  With deliberate effort, he slowed his breathing down.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”  Cas stood up.

“No!” Dean grabbed Cas’ arm, keeping him from walking away.  “Cas, I don’t know… I don’t know what this is between us.  It doesn’t seem real, that you could... love me.  I mean, you’re an Angel of the Lord and I’m some high-school dropout who started the Apocalypse...”

“You are the Righteous Man and I have Fallen,” Cas pointed out.

“It’s not the same,” Dean said helplessly.

“With your faults, fears, and anger, with your courage, loyalty, and strength, I love you, Dean.   _All_ of you.”

Dean let out a shaky breath.  Cas was so clear, so earnest with his declaration.  Maybe… maybe Dean didn’t need to hold back anymore.  Maybe he could acknowledge the feelings and desires bubbling up from his subconscious.

“I understand that you’re not interested in me the same way,” Cas continued, unaware of Dean’s revelations.  “You don’t have to force yourself--”

“I’m not--!” Dean started with a shout but pulled himself back.  More quietly, he finished, “I’m not forcing anything, Cas.  We’ve been running around my head for I-don’t-even-know-how-long, and it’s pretty clear by this point that when we look at my subconscious, all I want is… you.  And I’m just... trying to make sense of that in my conscious thought now.”

Cas sat beside Dean, their shoulders touching.  Dean still held onto Cas’ arm, as if he was afraid if he let go, Cas was going to vanish.  Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.  Cas always came and went on his own whims.

“You’re just going to leave me,” Dean muttered, looking down where they touched.  Everyone he loved had left him.  Why wouldn’t Cas?  He already had, after Stull.

“I’ll never leave you, Dean.”

Dean scoffed.  “Oh, so you’re _not_ going back to Heaven when we get out of here?” he asked sarcastically.

“I must stop Raphael.  But Dean…”

He paused, waiting for Dean to look up and for their eyes to meet.

Earnestly, Cas professed, “I always come when you call.”

Unable to keep eye contact, Dean looked away, his throat thick and his chest tight.  “Will… Will you stay?  After you’re done with the war in Heaven?  Will you stay with me?”

“Yes.  If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want, Cas,” Dean admitted.  “I’ve never done… love.  I thought I had.  With Cassie.  Or maybe there was a chance with Lisa and Ben.  But that doesn’t come close to…”

Dean trailed off.  He might not be able to say what he felt quite yet, but maybe he could give Cas a clue.  He shifted his grip on Cas’ arm, taking hold of his hand.  Cas startled, then relaxed against Dean, shifting his grip so they were properly holding hands.

Fuck.  Dean was holding hands with a _dude_.  He hadn’t held hands with a guy since Sam was little and, oh _fuck_ , how was he going to explain any of this to _Sam_?!

“Dean?” Cas asked, sensing Dean’s distress.

“I’m thinking about Sam,” Dean admitted.  “And what to tell him when we get back.”

“I see.”

“He tried talk to me before Gabriel showed up.  Asked me what I thought about us having the Cupid Mark.  I didn’t want to talk about it.  Kind of wished I had now.”

“Sam talked with me.”

Dean’s brows rose sharply.  “When?”

“Before we summoned Gabriel, while we were gathering the ingredients.  Sam asked how I was doing ‘with all of this’,” Cas repeated, using finger quotes properly for once.  “I told him I would do whatever I could to make you happy.”

Dean snorted a laugh.

Cas gave him a rueful smile.  “Yes.  Sam laughed as well.  He said that he knew what I meant, but that I made it sound like I was asking his permission to court you. I told him that I didn’t need his permission because it was up to you, but he did not have to worry--I didn’t think you were inclined to court me.”

Dean winced.  Another fucking reminder of how much he’d been hurting Cas without realizing it.

“He asked if we had talked about it, but I told him we hadn’t,” Cas continued.  “I didn’t think you would want to talk about it.  He looked sad when I said that.  He told me he didn’t think you were as adverse to the idea as you said, and he would support us in whatever we decided to do about the Cupid Mark.”

Well, that explained Sam coming up to Dean and trying to get him to talk about his feelings for Cas.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard coming out to Sam...

...Coming out?

Fuck.  Being with Cas meant _coming out_.  It didn’t matter that Cas was an Angel and didn’t think he had a gender, everyone around them was going to see Dean as _gay_.  Dean’s mouth went dry and his stomach flipped.

“...I’m not sure I can come out…” Dean said, his voice thin with nerves.

Cas tilted his head with confusion.

“Come out as gay.  Bisexual,” he corrected, with a roll of his eyes.  Then to further clarify, he said, “Be openly involved-- _romantically_ \--with a guy.”

“I’m not a guy--” Cas started.

“I _know_ ,” Dean snapped.  He knew at least that _Cas_ didn’t think he was a guy.  “But other people aren’t going to know that.  They’re gonna see you and think you’re a guy.  They’re going to think I’m _gay_.”

Another head tilt.  “Is that so bad?”

“My dad would fucking disown me,” he muttered.

“Perhaps he would,” Cas agreed.

Dean’s stomach dropped.

“But my father personally placed a Cupid Mark upon us.  That’s probably the biggest blessing for a love that’s possible.”

Dean barked out a startled laugh.  Cas leaned his head towards Dean, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Dean stared at those lips.  They were a little bit chapped again, but soft and pink.  And yeah, if Dean was going to be honest with himself, he did want to kiss them.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Cas.  Between us.  If this,” he waved his free hand at the circle, “will even work.  But I’m willing to try.  I… I want to try.”

“Okay.”

They got up and walked back towards the circle on the left, when a thought struck Dean.

“Wait a minute.  You said this has to be a ‘kiss of desire’, right?”

“Correct.”

“And you’ve been all fixated on which of your two meat suit options _I’m_ going to desire.  But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean, you’re like a complete cherry.”

“A what?”

“A virgin.  Do you, ya know… about me?”

Cas tilted his head, his brows furrowed.

“Do you desire me?” Dean blurted out.

“Yes,” Cas stated, as if the answer was obvious.

Dean gaped.  “But you freaked out when we were at the brothel, like you had no clue what to do about sex!”

“I know what sexual desire is, Dean,” Cas answered snottily, in his most ‘I am an Angel of the Lord and I know everything’ kind of voice.

“So you know you desire me, huh?”  Dean crossed his arms.  “Since when?”

“Since before I understood what I felt.  Perhaps when I first saw you.  Even when it was tattered and torn in Hell, your soul has always had the most beautiful glow I have ever seen.”

“Of course, an Angel of the Lord is all hot and bothered by my _soul_ ,” Dean joked.

“Your physical form is also aesthetically pleasing,” Cas assured.

Dean snorted.

They walked into the center of the sigil circle and stood there, staring at each other.

Cas had never kissed anyone before, so it made sense he wasn’t making a move, but Dean had kissed _tons_ of people, so what the Hell was his excuse?  Why the fuck was this so _hard_?!  

Because Dean hadn’t kissed _people_ ; he’d kissed _women_.  Not _dudes_.  Not _Cas_.

Not a celestial light beam who hadn’t kissed anyone or anything in his eons-old life span.  Not a friggin’ Angel of the Lord.  Not his best and only friend, when kissing him was going to completely change their relationship--

“You’re over-thinking this,” Cas told him.

Fuck.  He really was.  It was just a kiss.  He could do this...

Dean brought his hands up to cup Cas’ face.  He ran his thumb along Cas' jaw, feeling the rough scratch of stubble.  Fuck, there was no mistaking that this was a man’s face.

“Tell me you want this,” Dean softly pleaded.

“Yes.”  Hesitantly, Cas brought his hands up, but held them a few inches away from touching Dean.

“You can touch me,” Dean murmured.

Cas mimicked Dean’s movements and cupped Dean’s face.  Dean shifted his head and kissed Cas’ palm.

“Dean,” Cas marveled, staring intently into Dean’s eyes, his own blue eyes shimmering with wonder and affection.

A pool of warmth filled Dean’s stomach, and he leaned in, bringing their mouths together.  The first brush of their lips was soft and a little uncertain.  He curled the fingers of his other hand into Cas’ hair as he pressed his lips more firmly against Cas’.

They kissed, open-mouthed, and breathed in the same air.

Dean pulled back and opened his eyes, to check if Cas was still okay with this.  He found Cas’ blue eyes still open, staring intently at him.

Dean chuckled softly.  “You’re supposed to close your eyes when you kiss.”

“Why?” Cas asked, tilting his head.

“That’s...that’s just what you’re supposed to do.”

“Oh.”

Dean thought that would be enough, but he should have known better.

“But I want to see you.  I _like_ watching you.”

“Cas…” Dean groaned, pressing his forehead against Cas’.

“I like _touching_ you.”  Cas brought his hand to Dean’s shoulder.

His _left_ shoulder, and even through the fabric of his shirt, Dean felt a thrum of energy from the contact of Cas’ hand to the handprint he’d left there.  He felt electrified and caught all at once; Cas’ gaze trapping him in place. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe...

“Dean,” Cas breathed out, his whisper breaking the moment like a gunshot, compelling Dean to action.

He surged forward, his lips finding Cas’ as his hands trailed down Cas’ body.

Cas shuddered, one hand gripping tight a fistful of Dean’s hair.  “Dean…!”

Fuck, he was fond of Cas’ trenchcoat, but how had he never realized that it was in the way?  Dean shoved it aside and pulled at the tucked-in tails of Cas’ shirt.  He slide his hand around to fit perfectly in the small of Cas’ back.  His skin was hot under Dean’s hand as Dean gave a slight push and they fell together.

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean moaned into nape of Cas’ neck. His thumb stroked across Cas’ now bare hip bone, his fingertips dipping below the angel’s waistband...

**************************************

Someone behind Dean coughed.  Dean jumped, his eyes flying open as he pulled away from Cas.  They weren’t at the attic place anymore, or even Gabriel’s weird in-between space, but right back where they had left, in Bobby’s living room.  

Complete with an audience.

Bobby was the one who’d coughed.  He looked at Dean expectantly.

Dean could only imagine how he must look, considering how mussed-up Cas appeared.  Cas’ coat was half off and his shirt disheveled.  His face was flushed, his lips swollen, and his normally messy hair was even more so.  Dean elbowed him and mimed that he should straighten himself out.  Cas looked down, his eyes widened.  In an instant, he mojo’ed himself back to normal.  

That lousy fuck!  Cas could have at least done the same for him!

Grumbling, Dean straightened out his shirt and ran a hand over his head to smoothe out his hair.  He _really_ wanted to shift his jeans, but there was no way in Hell he was going to draw attention to the fact that he was half-fucking-hard.  Not in a room full of people, one of which was his little brother!

Sam sat nearby, his face red, and he kept looking down and away from Dean and Cas.  He’d seen Dean in more compromising sexual positions, sure, but probably not one as intimate.  Across the room, Balthazar smirked and Gabriel looked smug.

“I see you found what you wanted,” Gabriel said.

Dean could feel his face burning.  “So, um.  How long were we gone?”

“About five minutes,” Sam told him.

“And how long since we reappeared?” Or more apt, how much of their make-out session had been witnessed?

Sam gave Dean an apologetic look.

“Thought you might have noticed the whole ‘porting through dimensions’ thing, but you were too busy playing tongue hockey,” Gabriel oh-so-helpfully supplied.

Goddamn fucking angels.

Bobby arched an eyebrow.  “I take it for you boys, you’d been gone a bit longer than that?”

“You could say that,” Dean said.  It had been like a lifetime in Gabriel’s little pocket world.

“So… You’re together…?” Sam asked, eyeing Dean and Cas and how close they were still standing.

Fuck.  He hadn’t really thought about this part yet.  How he was going to tell people, _if_ he was going to tell them…?  But they had all seen him friggin _making out_ with Cas; he couldn’t exactly deny it now.

Did he _want_ to deny it?  To keep this thing between him and Cas hidden?  Of the people in the room, Gabriel had instigated this whole thing and Balthazar was a dickbag and Dean didn’t care what he thought, so that left Sam and Bobby.  What were they going to think about Dean being with a _guy_?  About Dean _liking_ guys…?

Except Cas wasn’t _just_ a guy.  He was an angel.

Fucking Hell, a friggin’ Angel of the Lord _loved_ him, had given up everything and _Fallen_ for him, and Dean was scared shitless about being honest about loving him back?!

Dean took a deep breath and reached down to take Cas’ hand in his own.  “...Yeah.  Yeah, we’re together.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and Dean felt his stomach churn.   _FUCK_.  He’d just come out to his brother, and his brother--

Sam broke out into a grin.  “I’m happy for you,” Sam said, and Dean could tell he really meant it.

Didn’t stop Dean from blushing.

“’Bout time you got your head outta your ass,” Bobby added.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Balthazar drawled.  “For the first angel-human couple in a millennia… We should have some champagne.”

Gabriel conjured up a couple of bottles and glasses.

“Ah, perfect,” Balthazar said, pouring himself a glass.

“We do not have time for this,” Cas announced, cutting through the budding chick-flick moment.  

He gave Dean’s hand a squeeze, and with that little gesture Dean could feel Cas’ affection, but Cas needed to deal with his responsibilities in Heaven first.  Of fucking course.

Cas looked sharply over at Gabriel.  “While the outcome has brought me great joy, your interference has disrupted my efforts to stop Raphael.”

“Oh, please,” Gabriel dismissed.  “It’s not like you were going to be able to stop Raffy, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Cas agreed.

Gabriel furrowed his brows, not expecting that response.

Cas continued, “You appear to have more in-depth knowledge of what is going on in Heaven than either Balthazar or myself.”

“I do,” Gabriel agreed.

“Will you share the source of your knowledge with us?”

Gabriel shook his head.  “Can’t.  It’s an archangel thing, and while you got promoted big time with your power-level, you’re still a Seraph.”

“Very well,” Cas accepted.  “You said that Raphael was planning something big.”

Gabriel winced and set his champagne glass down.  “Yeah, well, he can’t exactly kill you, and he can’t keep you running free, stirring up the masses of the Host with all your talk of Free Will, and not restarting the Apocalypse.”

“So, imprisonment?” Sam suggested.

“Worse.”  Gabriel turned to Cas.  “You remember your ‘reconditioning’ when you started to side with the humans over Heaven, before you fully Fell?”

“I remember.”  Cas’ eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a thin line.  Cas had never talked much about what happened to him when he got dragged back up to Heaven, but knowing what kind of dick bags the other angels were, it couldn’t have been pleasant.

“Well, Raphael has someone working on something bigger.  And more _permanent._  A method of _drilling_ right into the metaphysical brain of a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent.  A way to access the ‘factory settings’ of an angel, so-to-speak.”

Both Cas and Balthazar paled.

“That would be _worse_ than outright killing him,” Balthazar said.

“It would be the complete erasure of Free Will.”

Gabriel nodded.  “I think we can all agree we don’t want that to happen.”

“You _will_ accompany me back up to heaven,” Cas informed Gabriel.  “And together we’ll face Raphael.  With our combined strength, Raphael won’t be able to continue his plans to resume the Apocalypse.  The civil war will end.”

“I don’t _want_ to go back up to Heaven,” Gabriel complained.

“Nor do I.”  Cas looked at Dean, then back to his brother.  “But we must.  We must put a stop to this reconditioning process, and we must confront Raphael.  And--” Cas added with a slight smirk, “--if we do it with sufficient show of force, we shouldn’t need to _stay_ in Heaven.”

“Scare Raffy straight?”  Gabriel considered.  “I suppose it’s time I remind him that with Luci and Mikey gone, I’m the next oldest and he needs to listen to _me_.”

Like _that_ was going to go over well.  Well, if anyone was going to successfully stir shit up in Heaven, Dean supposed Cas working _with_ Gabriel were certainly the ones to do it.  Particularly as he listened to the three angels, along with Sam and Bobby, plan out the coming confrontation.

Dean should have been helping out with the planning, too.  He should be more focused on the huge showdown that was about to go down in heaven, but his thoughts were on Cas.  Well, him and Cas.  Him and Cas, _together_.  

Fuck, he’d just spent nearly a freaking _lifetime_ running around in Gabriel’s dream worlds doing nothing _but_ thinking about him and Cas.  But him and Cas, _together_ , well, that was new.

Cas, Gabriel, and Balthazar were going to win the war against Raphael, and Cas would come back to Dean and be _with_ Dean.  They were going to be together.  Like a couple.  And why the hell was that scarier than the thought of Cas going up to fight some epic showdown with an Archangel who had already killed him once?

The war didn’t seem as real to Dean.  He hadn’t seen the fighting.  He hadn’t seen _any_ angel but the three currently in the room with him since the Apocalypse had been averted.  But him and Cas?  It was real.  And, somehow, it was important enough that Gabriel, despite the massive civil war brewing in Heaven, had spent nearly a year getting them together, first subtly before opting for more direct means.  And fuck, why _had_ Gabriel done all that?  

While Cas and Balthazar explained some bit of heavenly trivia to Sam, Dean took advantage of their distraction to pull Gabriel aside.

“Why were you so invested in this,” Dean asked, waving his hand to indicate Cas and himself.  “I mean, what the fuck was in this for you?”

Gabriel let out a long sigh, and Dean could actually see the cocky trickster persona drop off his face.  When he looked back over at Dean, he almost appeared young.

“Because _Dad_ wanted it.  No one’s _seen_ him, let alone _talked_ with him, in ages.  But he brought me back and asked my opinion on what we should do for _you_.  Getting Sam, Bobby Singer, and Castiel back was the easy part.  So was getting Adam back up to Heaven.”

Dean’s stomach gave a lurch.  He’d forgotten about his half-brother in his focus on Sam.

“But Dad wanted to have a more specific reward for you, something more personal.  He told me you deserved happiness. So we looked into your heart for your deepest desire, and well, you wished you, your brother, my brother, all together while you all keep on keepin’ on.”

“Okay, I admit I _do_ want to Sam and Cas beside me, but why a Cupid Mark?  Why’d God play matchmaker?”

“Because Dad was giggling like a fangirl over the idea that he could make ‘Destiel’ canon.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t even know what half the words you just said meant.”

Gabriel patted Dean on his shoulder and gave him a mysterious little smile.  Before Dean could demand an answer, the archangel went back to join in the war planning with the others.  Dean stayed on the couch, his attention drawn back to Cas.

Cas’s blue eyes were so full of purpose and determination, and, God, his angel was beautiful.  Fuck.  He was fucking _staring_ at Cas thinking about how amazing his eyes were, and this _wasn’t_ the first time he’d done that.  Why hadn’t he realized this before?

How could he have missed for so long that he was in love with Cas?

He hadn’t let himself consider it until Cas had confessed his feelings to Dean.  And oh, _fuck_.  He hadn’t told Cas he loved him back.  Dean wasn’t into ‘chick-flick moments’, but after all the heartache he’d put Cas through, he _needed_ to tell him!  Now, before he went back up to Heaven.

Dean almost blurted it out, in front of everyone, but those words were for Cas, and Cas alone.

Thankfully, the strategy talk was winding down.  Unfortunately, Balthazar was trying to get Cas up to Heaven _now_ rather than later.

“It’s not going to take me that long to get our forces gathered, Cassie.  Why wait?”

“Cuz tonight, Cas and I need to finish ‘talking’,” Dean answered for his angel.

“Dean…?” Cas asked uncertainly.

“Until you win the war up in Heaven, this _is_ going to be your ‘last night on Earth’, Cas, and, well, we have a custom for that...”  Dean didn’t wait for any further discussion.  He grabbed Cas’ hand and led him up the stairs.

Dean could hear Balthazar and Gabriel laughing behind them.

“Here,” Gabriel said, nearly wheezing with mirth.  “Take these.”

“What’s this for?” Bobby asked.

“Headphones,” Gabriel responded.  “You’re going to need them.”

“Dammit,” Sam cursed, in his ‘I know way more about my brother’s sex-life than I want to and I hate my life’ tone of voice.

Dean smirked at his brother’s suffering, though he wasn’t sure if those headphones were going to be needed tonight or not.  Cas had been terrified about sex when Dean had brought him to the brothel, and Dean was more than a little terrified about sex with a dude.  But it was okay for them to take things slow.  They’d figure it out.  Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I don't have any intention of writing a sequel with their smuttastic first time, I do have some thoughts on writing a side-story from Sam's POV. I've got other stories to write first, though.


End file.
